Life's Too Short
by ImmortalRose
Summary: The boys are forced to call on their father for help after they fall in way over their heads by discovering a gateway to the spirit world and a girl who is desperate to free her sister's soul. Written during Season 1
1. Prologue

_Disclaimer: If I owned Sam and Dean, do you think that I would be writing stories to amuse myself?_

_Rated T for violence, mild and suggestive language._

_((Alright, this was my first attempt at a fan fiction and I wrote it during Season 1, which is why John Winchester is still alive. I decided to post it here after much coercion from friends, so, hope you enjoy! The chapters are a little short and I apologize for that. Please review! It helps me write!))_

Life's Too Short

Prologue

Beginnings... I hate beginnings. They're a bitch, aren't they? It's hard to tell a story from the beginning. How do you find the words to start?

In the beginning... No, sorry. Ha. Those are the opening words to a famous book.  
Well, I guess I don't have to start at the _very_ beginning. More like the middle. If I went back to the very start it would take us back 22 years, then night my mom died, and we don't really need to go that far.

Alright, enough screwing around. I need to get this over with. There's no need to be flowery or poetic. Sam would be, but I never went to college, so straightforward and simple's the way for me.

It starts in Jasper, Georgia. It's a quiet little town. Out of the way, small. But some construction had dug up an unmarked cemetery in the woods close to an old church. That would piss off any dead person, right? That's why I want to be cremated. Just get it right the first time. That way I can't come back and haunt the dumbass that digs me up.

Oh, sorry. I'm totally off subject, aren't I? See, I suck at this stuff. That's why Sammy should do this for me. Anyway, small town, dug-up graves, pissed off spirits. At least, that's what we were told. Yeah, that's where we were. That's the beginning.


	2. Chapter 1: The Road to Nowhere

Chapter 1: The Road to Nowhere

Dean Winchester silently wondered what time it was. He had stopped wearing a watch after about the fifth or sixth one, when he realized that a ghost's electromagnetic field could short them out. And honestly, he was too lazy to pull out his cell phone to check the time. All he knew was that it was dark and Sammy had fallen asleep in the passenger seat hours ago. Now Dean was getting bored. He had no one to talk to and didn't want to wake up Sam by turning the radio on. And one could only be interested in driving for so long. He was tired of the monotonous scenery. Nothing but black roads, black skies, and black woods.

_At least we're almost there,_ he thought to console himself. _Then we can check into a room and crash._ He looked over at Sam. _Or I can crash. He can just keep sleeping._

Sleep... Boy, was he tired. Almost there, though. Only about five more miles. No problem... Dean started in surprise when the silence was suddenly broken by the radio coming on.

"What the?" he muttered aloud as the station began to change itself. Rock music filled the Impala, then switched to rap, which was followed by static. Dean reached for the dial and turned it, but got nothing but static. He glanced over at Sam, relieved for the time being that he was still asleep. Good, he needed some rest.

Nothing but static... Until he heard the scream behind it. A voice followed, but the words were hard to make out.  
_Doesn't surprise me,_ the hunter thought as he strained to understand the EVP.

"...under the willow... under the... look... look in the trees... help me, help me..."

Dean frowned, trying to decipher the words through the static. They were spoken in a hoarse whisper by a decidedly female voice, though he couldn't be certain. He glanced over at Sam, but his younger brother was still dead to the world.

"...he's coming!" Another scream. "... she's in the house... she's powerful... she's... she's... she's..."

Dean leaned closer to the radio, trying to make out the message.

"...she's... Help!... Dean!"

Dean's eye's widened in surprise when he heard his name called across the EVP. Usually spirits only repeated words spoken when they were alive, or during their death. Rarely were spirits able to communicate new messages, not unless they were unusually strong. It was even more rare to hear spirits speak your own name.

"Dean... Winchester... Dean..." The voice began to fade as it continued to call his name, then suddenly Dean jumped back as the fading voice turned into an earsplitting scream. "Look out!!"

Sam jerked awake in the passenger seat.  
"What-?"

The blare of the semi's horn cut him off. Dean swerved away from the blinding headlights just in time, slamming Sam into the window. Dean's distraction with the EVP message had caused him to drive into the other lane. Now he slowly pulled off onto the side of the road, shaken by the incident.

"Ow. What the hell, Dean?" Sam asked irritably, holding his head where he'd hit the window.

"Sorry, Sammy," Dean replied, turning to his brother, "I just-"

"Do you want me to drive for a while?" Sam interrupted

"No, I'm tired. Listen, Sam, what was it that you told me about this place we were headed?"

"Dean, it's about three o'clock in the morning; can't this wait till later?"

"Sam."

"If you listened when I told you things the first time," Sam grumbled, pulling himself up in his seat, "Then I wouldn't have to repeat myself all the time."

"Just tell me about this job," Dean snapped, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel impatiently.

"There's been a lot of construction in Jasper lately," Sam said, pulling out a few papers, "and a cemetary was dug up."

"A cemetery?" Dean asked, "Not just one grave?"

"A cemetery," Sam confirmed, "Why?"

"I only heard one voice on the EVP," Dean mused.

"What?" Sam asked, still trying to wipe away the effects of sleep.

Dean explained to Sam the incident with the radio.

"And it called your name?" Sam asked when he was done.

"First and last," Dean replied, "So that's all it is? A disturbed cemetery?"

"Yeah," Sam answered, a little peeved by the fact that Dean was brushing off the disturbing fact that the spirit had called out to him. "Activity there had been kicked up since and several unexplained murders have followed."

"So it should be simple, right?" Dean asked.

"Is anything ever simple, Dean?"

The older brother shrugged in confirmation.

"The spirits must be powerful, if they can cause murders and call out."

"And they're pissed, which is never good," Dean replied with a sigh, glancing at the now dead radio, "But why did she warn me if she was a vengeful ghost?"

"Maybe it wasn't a warning."

"What else do you call it?" Dean asked, raising an eyebrow at Sam.

"I call it a coincidence."

"Sammy," Dean said, "Haven't you learned by now that there's no such thing as coincidence?"


	3. Chapter 2: Visions in the Dark

Chapter 2: Visions in the Dark

"Welcome to the middle of nowhere," Dean said as he threw his car keys onto the hotel table.

"The middle of nowhere is usually where we run into problems," Sam commented, sitting down at the table and turning on the laptop.

"Dude, it's like three in the morning," Dean said, pulling off his jacket, "Go back to sleep. You were sleeping like a baby in the car."

"Well, now that you've got me wide awake," Sam replied, "I may as well do more digging."

"Digging's what got this started," his brother muttered.

Sam rolled his eyes. Dean could be such a pain in the ass sometimes. One minute he wanted something, the next he was complaining.  
_But God help me,_ Sam thought, _you gotta love him. Even when he's at his worst._

"I think you're the one who needs sleep," Sam said, "You almost made us a stain on the pavement back there."

Okay, so maybe Dean was rubbing off on him.

The older Winchester shot Sam a nasty glare, but said nothing. Sam felt a little bad. That little EVP incident had left Dean shaken, and even though he was doing a good job at hiding it, Sam could still tell.

"I guess the first thing we could do tomorrow is visit the construction site," Dean said as he sprawled himself out on his bed. "Then..."

"Then what?" Sam asked, tapping keys, glancing at his brother.

"Then visit the first victim's family, I guess," Dean answered.

"The first victim doesn't have any family," Sam replied, "She was an old widow living alone down by the railroad tracks."

"Hmm," was Dean's only response.

"The second victim left behind a wife and two kids. Dean, there are no patterns in these deaths. They're not even similar." He paused for a reply. "Dean. Dean?"

He turned with a comment on his lips, but it dyed away as he saw his brother was sound asleep. Sam had forgotten that he'd been driving all night and must have been exhausted. He turned back to the computer screen, then sighed.

_He's right. This can wait until tomorrow,_ he thought as he shut down the laptop.

Crawling into bed, he turned out the light and fell into a deep sleep.  
-------------- ---------  
_He's standing in an old, abandoned building. He's actually not certain whether or not it's abandoned, but all the dust and cobwebs seem to be good indications that no one's been here for a while._

He looks out the window and sees a train car sitting outside in the night.

A train station, _he thinks,_ I'm in an old train station.

_He doesn't know why he's so sure of this, he just is. But suddenly a noise catches his attention. It sounds like..._

Chanting? But, who would be here?

_He starts to make his way through the cluttered building. The station is full of dusty benches and shelves, like it's been used for storage for many years._

He sees a light coming from under a closed door at the end of the hallway. He starts towards it, but a voice stops him.

"No, Sam."

He turns. There is a girl standing there, watching him. In the darkness he can't really make out her features, but he can clearly see her green eyes. Eyes almost the same shade as Dean's. Because of this, he cannot be afraid of her. Or maybe he knows her? He isn't sure.

"Sam," she calls, holding out a hand, "Come with me. Don't go there."

Her voice is soft and pleasant. He reaches out and takes her hand. Her fingers are warm and she smiles at the touch, seeming amazed at the contact.

This vision is so different from the rest, _he thinks,_ It feels so real.

_"It's not a vision," she replies, looking up from their touching hands, the smile still on her face._

"What do you mean?" he asks her.

"I know this is unusual for you," she answers, shocking him by wrapping her arms around his waste, "but hold me. Just for a minute. Just because you can."

"What are you-?"

"I've come to tell you and your brother something," she interrupts, pulling away to look up at him, "I came to you through a dream so that it'd be more real."

"You're the one who called out to Dean," he says, looking into her green eyes.

"Sam, listen to me," she insists, "You're-"

The chanting from the other room suddenly swells in volume and the girl shrieks, grabbing her head as if in pain. He reaches out to her, but his hand moves through her.

"Free Hope Church!" she yells, "Find it, Sam!"

The chanting increases still and now he can barely hear her. He covers his own ears as the noise becomes deafening, but he hears her final shriek.

"Dean!"  
--------------- ----------  
Sam woke up with a start. He was sweating and breathing heavily as he sat up and looked around the silent room.

_What the hell?_ he thought, running a hand through his unkempt hair. Nothing like that had ever happened to him before and now he felt a little weak. His heart was pounding and his legs felt shaky as he went into the bathroom, splashing cold water on his face.

He looked at his reflection in the mirror and willed himself not to look so pale. He noticed that the sun was rising outside as he left the bathroom and decided that going back to sleep was not an option. So he pulled out the laptop to pass the time until Dean woke up. The older Winchester would be very interested in what Sam had to tell him.


	4. Chapter 3: Leaving Breadcrumbs

Chapter 3: Leaving Breadcrumbs

"This doesn't make sense," Dean said, still rubbing sleep from his eyes, "Vengeful spirits don't cry for help."

"Unless she wants us to help her find revenge," Sam pointed out.

"Well, we're not angels of justice," Dean remarked.

Sam had told him some of the dream, but not all of it. He had kept out the part about the girl calling Dean's name again. He didn't know why he always kept things from his brother. He felt guilty for it sometimes, but he couldn't help it for some reason.

"She wanted us to find something," Sam told Dean, "but I can't remember what."

Sam had found, to his dismay, that the name of the place she wanted him to find was already gone from his mind. He had forgotten it almost upon waking and now it bothered him that he couldn't remember. It had to have been important and now he felt as if he'd let the girl down by forgetting.

"Don't stress yourself out, Sammy," Dean said, rising from the edge of the bed where he'd been sitting, "If it's that important she'll tell us again."

"You're right," Sam replied, but the fact that she had not been able to finish her message had also bothered him. Was there something, another spirit perhaps, that didn't want her to tell them whatever is was she had to say?

"I'm going to get a shower," Dean announced, "You want to grab us breakfast or something?"

"Sure," Sam answered as Dean tossed him the car keys.  
--------- -----------  
Dean turned on the water until it was scolding hot and then let it wash over his body as he slowly relaxed, trying to sort everything out in his head. They had just gotten here and already he was lost. Who was this girl trying to speak to him and Sam and what was she trying to say?

_Well, the first thing we'll do is visit the cemetery, then look into some of the mysterious deaths. Yeah, piece of cake... Come on, Dean, when is it ever just a piece of cake?_

He sighed and turned the water off. He had just finished drying off and dressing when he heard his cell phone ring. He opened the bathroom door, the steam from the hot shower billowing out, and walked over to the bedside table where he'd left the phone. He looked at the caller I.D. It read 'Sam'.

"What is it?" Dean asked as he answered the phone, but there was nothing but static on the other line. "Hello? Sam?" Nothing.

Dean frowned as the other line went dead. Then suddenly something moved out of the corner of his eye. He turned to see the movement in the bathroom mirror again where he had left the door slightly open.

His hand reached for the gun he'd put under his pillow the night before. Holding it tightly in his hand, he walked slowly towards the bathroom, pushed the door open, and looked inside. Nothing. He stepped inside and turned and noticed what was written on the foggy mirror.

"256"  
------------ -------------  
"'256'?" Sam repeated, "That's all it said?"

"Yep," Dean replied, turning pages in their dad's journal even though he knew that there was nothing there to find, "That was after your creepy phone call."

"I didn't call you, Dean."

"Exactly. But somebody did."

"Alright," Sam said with a sigh, sitting down at the laptop, "What do you think 256 is?"

Dean shrugged, "Not sure. Could be anything. Room number, address..."

"All right, here's the list of people that have died recently," Sam said, reading off the computer, "These are all after the cemetery was dug up a few weeks ago. We have the old woman by the train tracks; she was the first. Then the husband, then there-"

"Wait, did you say the old woman lived by the train tracks?" Dean interrupted.

"Yeah, why?"

"'Cause, didn't you say that in your dream you were in a train station?"

"Huh. Well, I'll be damned," Sam replied, pulling up a picture of the old train station near where the woman had lived. It was, without a doubt, the same one from his dream.


	5. Chapter 4: To the Train Station

Chapter 4: To the Train Station

Yeah, too bad we all don't have visions and dreams that point the way. Some of us have to rely purely on instinct. But it comes in handy when a guy like me has Sammy around to have visions. Alright, so that sounded a little cold. I didn't mean it like that. It bothers me, though, to see Sammy hurting like he does. And for what? For a life he never wanted to live?

I just don't want anybody to think that I'm using Sam. 'Cause that's not the case. If I could take his burdens, I would do it without a moments hesitation. But I can't change Fate and I don't know why he was given the gift that he calls a curse. I don't want _him_ to think that I'm using him.

But, like any pain-in-the-ass big brother, I can't tell him any of these things. I can't seem to tell him anything that matters. I try. I honestly do, but I'm not that kind of person. I'm not all touchy-feely and stuff, so it's harder for someone like me to say things like 'Thank you' or 'I'm sorry' or 'I love you'. I'm supposed to be strong and that means eliminating the emotion factor.

I guess I'm just scared that one day it might be too late for me to say all those things, and life's too short for regret.  
--------------------  
It was almost noon when they reached the abandoned train station. Sam felt a chill of recognition creep up his spine as he saw it. The only difference was that he was standing on the outside this time.

"This the place?" Dean asked as he closed the driver's side door to the Impala.

"Yeah, this is it," Sam replied, "But, Dean. What are we supposed to find here?"

"You tell me, psychic boy. What'd our dead friend say?"

"Nothing about a train station," Sam muttered as he made his way up the old platform steps.

Dean followed him and used his jacket sleeve to wipe a layer of dirt from one of the windows, peering inside.

"Dark," he commented, pulling a flashlight from his duffel bag and handing it to Sam before grabbing one for himself.

Sam took the flashlight and went to the door. Not locked. That was a surprise. The place was abandoned. Why would it be open?

"Break the door down or break a window?" Dean asked.

"Door," Sam said, indicating that it was open.

"Door it is, then," Dean replied, motioning for Sam to stand back.

"But, Dean-"

Sam didn't get a chance to finish his sentence as Dean ran and kicked the door. The door, already opened slightly by Sam, gave way easily, and Dean found himself falling face-first onto the dusty floor. Sam found himself stifling a laugh as he bent down to help his brother up.

"Tried to warn you," he said with a grin on his face.

"Good job at that," Dean muttered, brushing dirt off his shirt and jacket.

"Wow, Dean, look at this place," Sam said as he took a look around the old train station, "It must be at least a hundred years old. Hey, look at this." He walked over to an old telegraph device on a desk in the corner. "Dean, these were used for-"

"Yeah, save the history lesson for later," Dean interrupted. "Besides, I'm not an idiot. I _did_ finish high school you know."

Sam felt himself flush slightly, but shut his mouth. _Smartass_, he thought.

"Hey, Sam."

"Yeah?" he asked, shining his flashlight onto an old train schedule.

"This place is supposed to be abandoned, right?"

"Yeah, why?"

Sam turned and followed the beam of Dean's flashlight. Through the dusty floor there was a trail of footprints leading through the station. And they looked pretty new compared to everything else here. Sam faced Dean and his older brother lifted an eyebrow.

The older Winchester led the way through the cluttered station, following the footprints. Sam couldn't help but feel the uncanny sensation of deja vou as he spotted the door at the end of a long hallway. He immediately remembered his dream and the chanting that had come from that room. He half expected the girl to call out to him as he followed Dean in that direction.

Dean nudged the door open with his toe and shone the flashlight inside. Both the young men peered in cautiously. It was an empty room, dark and windowless. But what caught their attention was the symbols carved and painted on the floors and walls.

"Look what we have here," Dean muttered as he walked inside, pausing to study some of the symbols.

"Vandalism?" Sam asked.

"I think it's more than that," Dean replied, pointing to a strange shape on the wall, "No mere kid could find some of these symbols, even in a book. This one here, it's used to summon the dead. Very ancient. Dates back to before Christ."

"Summon the dead?" Sam asked, turning to his brother, "Dean, what are you saying?"

"I'm saying that the spirits here weren't disturbed by the construction. Someone summoned them, and used the old cemetery as a cover."

"Are you talking about Necromancy?" Sam asked, a little dubiously.

"It makes sense," Dean replied, "Why else would the girl's spirit be calling out to us? It also explains all the weird deaths. Someone in this town is using the dead to kill people off."

"Dean, really. You can't know all that from a few symbols written on the wall. Necromancy is serious magic. No average person could possibly manage it."

"How else do you explain this room?" Dean asked. "How else do you explain the girl?"

"Look, maybe we should visit the cemetery first before we draw conclusions from nothing," Sam reasoned.

"Sammy, why would she show you this place if wasn't important?" Dean asked.

"It's Sam, and I don't know, but this wasn't the place that she wanted us to go, Dean, it was somewhere else. I just can't remember where. And how do we even know that this is a good spirit, Dean? Demons always try to come across as good spirits before they attack, that's why they disguise themselves as small children all the time. For all we know, this could just be a case of vengeful spirits."

"Who write symbols on the walls that are used to summon the dead?" Dean asked. "Yeah, that makes sense, Sam. And maybe I'm Santa Clause."

"You're such a pain in the ass," Sam said with a sigh. "Okay, say you're right. Someone is summoning spirits to kill people off. What's the motive?"

"Motive?" Dean asked.

"English class, Dean. In every story a motive is why a character does the things he does."

"Aw, man, I slept during that class," Dean muttered, "This isn't a story. Why do people need motives?"

"Why would someone want to kill people?" Sam insisted. "A harmless old lady, a father of two?"

"'Cause they're just evil," Dean replied. When Sam gave him an incredulous look he continued, "Look, you said in your dream that you heard chanting from this room, right? Maybe reciting spells?"

"Let's visit the cemetery, Dean."

Dean shrugged in surrender, motioning Sam out the door. He was right, and he knew it, and that was all that mattered.


	6. Chapter 5: Drawn to the Well

Chapter 5: Drawn to the Well

Dean was very irritated now. All Sam had been doing since they got in the car was argue with him. Did he always have to find flaws in everything Dean said? Damn, he was more like their father than even Dean liked to admit.

_256_, he thought to distract himself as he cranked up the radio to drown out Sam, _I wonder what that could mean? Maybe it's an address?_

"Stop!" Sam suddenly shouted.

"What?" Dean asked, pulled from his thoughts.

"Stop!" Sam yelled again, causing Dean to slam on the brakes in surprise, throwing them both forward.

_At least the steering wheel was there to break my headlong dive into the windshield,_ Dean thought, trying to get his breath back after being winded.

"What is it?" he asked Sam irritably.

"Free Hope Church," Sam murmured.

"What?" Dean asked again, getting very aggravated. He followed Sam's eyes to a marble sign on the side of the road. It read 'Free Hope Church' carved into the marble.

"Free Hope Church," Sam repeated, "I remember now. That's what she told me to find in my dream!"

"Yeah?" Dean asked, "What happened to 'she's a demon acting good'? Huh, Sam?"

"Just go," Sam snapped, pointing up the hill where the sign led. "Go!" he repeated when Dean just gave him a quizzical stare.

"Alright," Dean said with a sigh as he pushed on the gas, "but admit it. The only reason you were arguing with me before is because you didn't want me to be right, but see I'm older, and I'm always right."

"Dean."

"Yeah?"

"Shut up."

Dean decided to ignore that little comment and turned back to the road. What was he looking for exactly? The sign to Free Hope Church led up a hill that led to a half circle of houses of sorts. Down one road was a large red barn and an old cabin. On the other side of the half circle were more houses and an old storm shelter cut into the side of the hill. Straight through the middle of the circle was an old dirt road, but no church.

"I don't know, Sammy. I don't see anything here," Dean said to his brother, looking but not seeing the numbers 256 on any of the mailboxes.

"Go down that dirt road. There might be something there," Sam insisted.

Dean obeyed only to save them from another pointless argument. After driving for ten minutes and seeing nothing but dirt and trees he began to become frustrated again.

"Sam, my car is taking a beating for nothing. There's not even a church here."

But then, as Dean rounded a corner, he spotted the rustic white church on the side of the road. He tried to ignore the I-told-you-so look from his brother, but it was hard. Dean pulled into the front of the church, eyes passing over its structure as well as the cemetery next to it.

_Maybe we were wrong about this whole job_, Dean thought, _There's something else going on here besides restless spirits._

Sam got out of the car first and Dean followed. He suddenly felt very uneasy about this whole situation. Something didn't fit together properly in this whole scenario, he just couldn't quite figure out what it was yet.

"I'll check around the church," Sam announced, "You take the cemetery."

"Alright, just be careful," Dean replied.

"Dude, I'm not ten anymore," Sam answered.

"Just take some salt with you and shut up, Sammy."

"Sam," the younger brother corrected.

"Alright, _Sam_," Dean replied, then muttered when his brother was out of earshot, "-_my_."

Dean made his way into the small graveyard. He didn't really expect to find much in daylight, but it never hurt to check. It was very quiet here, which was unsettling to Dean.

_Probably just because we're in the middle of nowhere,_ he reassured himself.  
-------------------------  
Sam searched the perimeter of the old church, but found nothing there. It seemed like any regular old church to him.

"Alright, lady. Why did you send me here?" he asked out loud, not really expecting an answer.

_Over here..._

Sam turned at the sound of a whisper. Had he imagined it? No, he didn't think so. But had that been the voice of the same girl who had spoken to him in his dream. He somehow didn't think so. It sounded different to them. But he found himself following it anyway.

He found a trail a little ways from the church that led through the trees. He followed it and it didn't take him very long at all to find what he knew he'd been led to. It was an old well that had obviously been forgotten and left untouched for years. It was made of stone and was overgrown by vegetation.

He walked closer to the well. There had to be something here for him to find. Why else would he have been led here? He leaned over the side of the well and looked inside. It was too dark to see. He picked up a rock and let it fall into the abyss. He heard it hit the stone wall a couple of times and then splash at the bottom. It wasn't too deep, but still a pretty good fall.

That's when he felt the cold chill on the back of his neck. Sam moved to turn around, but never got the chance.

_Surprise..._ the voice whispered in his ear, and then he felt a shove and he was falling into the well.  
-------------------  
"Alright," Dean muttered, standing from where he crouched in front of a tombstone, "That's it. Another dead end. Back to square one."

_Dean!_

The older Winchester stopped when he heard the faint cry. There was no doubt about it. It was the same voice he had heard over the EVP. He turned, searching for a sign to where it was coming from.

_Dean! Sam's in danger! He needs you!_


	7. Chapter 6: Narrow Escape

Chapter 6: Narrow Escape

"Sam! Sam!" Dean called, but his voice echoed through the gravestones and the churchyard with no reply.

He ran to the church where his brother had been searching, but there was no sign of the younger Winchester.

"Sammy!"

Still no answer. Dean felt his heart pounding in his chest. It wasn't time to panic yet, but it was definitely time to start getting scared. Dammit, why wasn't he answering? He couldn't have gone that far.

_Dean!_

Dean turned at the sound of the disembodied voice, the one that had warned him and called out to him. As he turned, he noticed a path, almost invisible in the trees, leading away from the church. Somehow knowing that that was where Sam was, he took off running down the path, calling his brother's name.

When he saw the well his heart gave an unpleasant lurch.

"Oh, God..." he breathed, "Sam!"  
-------------------------  
After Sam was pushed he had the unpleasant sensation of a free fall as he fell down into the old well, headfirst. He tried to grab something, anything, to stop himself, but the walls were worn and slick.

He hit the water harder than he would have liked, but he silently thanked God that the well was deep and he hadn't broken his neck in the fall. He gasped as he broke the surface, looking up at the light that was the top of the well. It seemed much deeper than it had before from here. 

He began to look around for handholds. The shaft of the well was wide enough for him to stretch out his arms on both sides, but as he feared, there was nothing to grab onto. Also, his feet didn't touch bottom. How long could he tread water in an abandoned well, he wondered?

Well, if all else failed, there was always one thing to do in times of trouble.

"Dean!!"  
--------------------------  
_Oh, thank God,_ Dean thought as he heard his brother's voice coming up from the well.

"Sam!" he called down, leaning over the side of the well to look down inside. _God, it's deep._

"Watch out," Sam warned, "That first step's a bitch."

Dean smiled in relief that Sam was well enough to joke around. He was kind of peeved that Sam hadn't answered him the first 20 times he'd called his name, but he really couldn't stay mad at him when he was just happy his brother was alive. But he still had a problem. How was he supposed to get Sam out?

"Alright, Sam, just hang tight. I'm going to grab some rope from the trunk and pull you out. 'Kay?"

"Alright," Sam called back.

Dean hated leaving Sam at all, especially after his brother had just done a swan dive into an abandoned well. That wasn't like him at all. But he knew that he had to get Sammy out somehow, and that would require him leaving him for a few minutes.

Dean ran back to the Impala and opened the trunk a little forcefully.

"Sorry, babe," he apologized to the Impala as he proceeded to pull out rope and also a pistol loaded with rock salt, just in case.  
------------------------  
Sam sighed in relief as he tread water. He hadn't had time to tell Dean that he had actually been pushed into the well, but he hoped that it didn't become a problem when his brother tried to pull him out. Of course he was wrong.  
---------------  
"Alright, Sam, here's the rope," Dean called as he dropped the rope down to his brother, hoping that it would reach. He felt the tug at the end of the rope. "Tie it around your waste and I'll pull you up."

Sam did as his brother told, gripping the rope when he was done.

"Alright."

Dean felt a shiver as he began to pull up his younger brother, Sam helping by bracing his feet on the well walls. The older Winchester brushed the chill off as nerves. I mean, his brother _had_ just fallen into an old well.

"Hey, Dean," Sam called up.

"Yeah?" Dean replied with a grunt, sounding a little winded.

"You might want to keep an eye out."

"Why?"

"Because I didn't fall down here. I was pushed."

"Pushed?"

"Something pushed me."

"Oh, great, now you tell me?" Dean snapped, looking around as he felt another chill down his spine.

"Dean?" Sam asked as he felt the rope stop moving.

"Man, now you've got me paranoid," Dean hissed, "The next thing we need is for both of us stuck in a well."

"Just get me out of here," Sam replied.

Dean continued to pull. _Almost there,_ he thought to himself, _Almost-_

_Behind you..._

Dean turned only to be pushed in the chest instead of the back. He stumbled, the rope sliding from his hands. He heard Sam cry out in surprise as he fell back down, but grabbed the rope again before he heard a splash at the bottom. Dean felt another shove on his chest and was barely able to keep himself from tumbling into the well.

"Dean?" Sam called up. "What's going on?"

Dean reached for the pistol in his waistband, but he felt the hand holding the rope jerked down into the well like someone had grabbed a hold of it and tried to pull him down. Still managing to hold on for dear life, he gritted his teeth against the pulling sensation he felt. With his other hand he fired the pistol, though he wasn't sure what he was shooting at since he couldn't see anything.

Sam's heart leapt at the sound of the gunshot.

"Dean? Dean!"

"Not now, Sammy!" Dean replied as he felt the hold on his hand slacken and then release. Breathing heavily now, he placed the gun on the side of the well and grabbed the rope in both hands before the spirit came back. This time the salt kept the spirit at bay long enough for him to pull Sam from the well.

"You okay?" Dean gasped.

"Yeah, are you?" Sam asked.

"Come on," Dean replied, pulling his sopping wet brother away from the well, gun held firmly in his other hand just in case Casper decided to come out and play some more. But it seemed that one murder attempt for the two brothers was enough for this particular spirit, because they made it back to the Impala without being harassed any further.

As he got in the car, though, Dean could not shake the feeling of being watched.


	8. Chapter 7: The Face of the Spirit

Chapter 7: The Face of the Spirit

"Are you alright?" Dean asked once they were safely on the road again, sparing a glance at his brother.

"I'm fine," Sam replied, checking himself for bruises.

"Man, I hate to admit it, but that damn ghost led us there to attack us!" Dean huffed, seeming genuinely hurt by that fact. "She was evil, Sammy. You were right."

"No, you're wrong," Sam answered.

"I know, that's what I'm saying."

"No, you're wrong about being wrong. You're right."

"I'm right about you being right? Right?"

"Wrong," Sam snapped.

"I'm wro-? What?" Dean asked in confusion.

"The girl from my dream is not the one that attacked us," Sam clarified.

"But she was the one who led me to the well," Dean argued, "Then tried to shove me in."

Sam shook his head. "She's not the one who pushed me, Dean. It was another spirit."

"How do you know?"

"Because, Dean, it was a different voice, a different feeling... It wasn't the same girl. She must have led you to the well to help me."

"So she's good now, and I'm right, right?" Dean asked.

"I don't know about the Necromancy theory, but you were right about the girl," Sam admitted.

"Are you sure you're alright?" Dean asked after a pause.

"Yes, Dean, I'm fine," Sam answered, unable to keep a smile off his face.

"Good," his brother replied, "'Cause you're dripping nasty well water all over my car, so your ass better be alright."

Sam laughed at the comment.

"Yeah, laugh it up. And, man, take a shower. You smell like a sewer."  
----------------------  
"Any strange messages on the mirror?" Dean asked as his brother left the bathroom, clean and smellng like soap.

"No," Sam answered, toweling his hair dry, "Find anything?"

"Not sure," Dean replied, turning the laptop so Sam could see the screen, "But I did find this. About five years or so ago a local girl was murdered. She was about seventeen and she left behind a twin sister who had to be admitted to the local asylum afterwards. Seem she couldn't handle the loss of her sister."

"Why is that unusual?" Sam asked.

"Because," Dean replied, seeming to hesitate before he spoke again, "Her twin claimed that," he leaned over and read a direct quote, "'The spirits killed her. I saw them come and I saw them leave. They were with us all the time.'"

"That's why they admitted her?" Sam asked, "Because she started talking about spirits?"

"Yeah," Dean answered.

"And the sister?"

"Murderer never caught, but her family says that the sisters used to talk to spirits all the time. Sam, the girl's sister wasn't crazy. They were both clairvoyants. Look here."

Dean pulled up a picture of the two girls so that his brother could see. The sisters had to be about 15 or 16 in the photo. They were caught with smiles on their young faces as they stood in front of an old church. But the church was not the only tell-tale part of the picture. And it was not Free Hope Church that made Sam gasp, and it was not the phantom lights that seemed to surround the twins in the picture, it was the green eyes that stared back at him from both the twins. It was those green eyes that he remembered so clearly from his dream, the eyes of the girl that had come to him from across the grave to deliver a message.

"D-Dean," Sam gasped, "Dean, that's her. That's the girl!"

"That's her?" Dean asked, "Are you sure?"

"Positive."

"Well, that explains why her spirit is powerful; she was a psychic when she was alive," Dean pointed out. "A lot like you, I guess."

Sam looked at his brother and there was an unusual look in his eyes that the younger could not quite make out.

"Then why did she come to you first?" Sam asked.

"Feeling a little jealous?" Dean inquired with a grin, "I can't help the fact that the ladies can't resist me. Even the dead ones."

Sam punched Dean on the arm playfully.

"So, is it possible we can talk to the sister?" Sam asked, turning back to the picture.

"Already arranged it," Dean said with a smile, "We have an appointment later tonight."

Sam looked back at the girl with the green eyes. "What was her name?"

Dean hesitated again before answering. "The one who died was Emily Hoffkins. The one we're going to see is Jessica."

Sam started at the name.

"Just a coincidence," Dean reassured him.

"In my experience," Sam replied, "There's no such thing as coincidence."


	9. Chapter 8: What do You See?

Chapter 8: What do you See?

Dean looked up at the peaceful-looking institution as they pulled up.

_Man, I hate asylums,_ he thought with a sigh, _Something always goes wrong._

"What is it?" Sam asked.

"Nothing," Dean replied, pulling some fake IDs from the glove box. "Come on. Let's go."  
------------  
Dean walked up to the young receptionist at the counter with a charming grin and held up a fake doctor's ID.

"Hey, there. I'm Dr. Dean Marcus, and this is my assistant Sam. We have an appointment with a patient named Jessica Hoffkins."

"Oh, yes, Doctor. You can go right up. She's in room 256."

Dean looked up sharply and he and Sam both exchanged glances.

"256?" Dean asked.

"That's right," the lady confirmed.

"Thank you," Sam said to her as he and his brother walked away from the counter.

"256," Dean mused, "Why does that not surprise me?"  
----------------  
Dean slowed as he reached the door marked 256. An older man stood there, obviously waiting for them.

"Hello, Doctors," he greeted, "I'm Dr. Simon."

Dean and Sam shook the man's hand in turns, not failing to notice the glance he gave to the young men and Dean's leather jacket. The slightly balding man pushed his glasses up his nose as he continued.

"I think that I should tell you a little more about Jessica's condition before I allow you to see her," he said. "See, she was traumatized by her sister's death and hasn't spoken a word since she's been admitted."

"She hasn't spoken?" Sam asked.

Dr. Simon shook his head. "Not a word. For five years she's been completely silent. Honestly, I don't think there's anything you can do for her."

"We were told that she was admitted because she began claiming that spirits killed her sister. Am I right?" Dean asked.

The doctor nodded. "Here, let me show you something."

He led the two young men to a small office a few doors down and pulled out a file.

"Here are some of the things she says she sees. Frankly, I've never seen anything quite like them before."

He handed Dean and Sam a stack of sketches. Dean's first impression was that they were very good and very accurate. They were drawings of what he knew to be spirits and, more than that, demons. He exchanged another glance with Sam. He knew they were thinking the same thing. This girl Jessica was more than just a clairvoyant if she was seeing demons as well. She was something more. A more advance type of psychic, and a more dangerous one if on the wrong side.

"I think we'll go see her now," Dean said to Dr. Simon.

"Alright," the elder man replied, "But you won't find out anything new, I'm sure."  
-----------------  
When Sam saw the young woman he was instantly heartbroken by the sight of her. This couldn't be the twin of the vibrant woman from his dream, could it? That young woman had had a life to her, even though it was only her spirit that he had communicated with. But this young lady was the one who looked like death. Her long black hair was unkempt, her face pale, her body thin in a sickly way. And her eyes... Her green eyes were unfocused and seemingly soulless. The eyes he had seen in his dream had not been like that. Granted they had been her sister's eyes and not her's, but the two of them being twins they may as well have been the same.

Sam sat in the chair at the table across from the girl and Dean took the chair beside him. He couldn't help but pity the poor girl. After all, they shared a similar gift, didn't they? She saw demons and he saw the future? Only he had been spared her fate. He hadn't rotted away in an insane asylum because Dean had been there. Dean had been there to help him through the whole ordeal and to accept his abilities. But this girl... She was not able to keep her gift a secret after her sister's death. And Sam could have easily shared her fate if things had not gone as they did.

"Jessica," Dean's voice broke through his thoughts and brought him back to the present. "Jessica, I'm Dean and this is my brother, Sam. We've come to try and talk to you about a few things."

Sam saw the girl turn and look at them both. He even thought that he saw a glimmer of recognition in her eyes, but that was impossible. They had never met before.

"Jessica, we know about the things you see," Dean continued as she made eye contact with the older brother, "and we don't think you're crazy. But we need your help. You see, we think that Emily is trying to talk to us, but we don't know what she's trying to say. We thought that maybe you would."

Dean frowned as Jessica remained silent, just looking back and forth between Dean and Sam. Her eyes seemed to trace them, weigh them, study them. They were not the eyes of a medicated crazy person, but of a lucid, intelligent young woman. That alone gave Sam hope.

"Maybe you could draw us something," Sam suggested, remembering Lucas, the boy Dean had helped somewhere at the start of the brothers' journey. Lucas had also gone silent after witnessing his father's death. When Dean and Sam had come to kill the thing that had done it, Dean had coaxed the boy into helping them by drawing them clues. The boy had even begun to speak again thanks to Dean. Sam inwardly felt a brief glimmer of pride for his older brother. If he had done it for Lucas, than maybe he could do it for Jessica as well.

"Yeah, that's a good idea," Dean replied, smiling at Sam, "I know that even in death, you and your sister must have a connection," he told Jessica, "'Cause even in life the two of you had a gift, am I right?" He watched hopefully as Jessica took up the pencil and sketchpad. "Anything you know, anything you think that Emily would want to tell us about the recent deaths."

The two brothers waited in silence as the girl drew. They couldn't see the picture, but both were hoping that it would shed some light on the whole situation. When Jessica stopped and put down her pencil they both waited with bated breath to see what she had drawn. They both let their breath out in a heavy sigh.

Sam had to admit, even though the picture wasn't what he had hoped for, it was still very good. It was a perfect portrait of Dean. From the long eyelashes to his day's stubble, down to every last detail and shadow. It was perfect, almost life-like, and it made Sam smile to see it.

"That's very good," Dean said with a slight smile, "but that's not what I meant."

He watched as she ripped out the page and gave it to the older Winchester.

"Thank you," he said, "But, Jessica. We wanted you to draw us what your sister was showing you."

Jessica merely nodded in reply, pointing at the picture, and then pointing at Dean, and that's when Sam understood what she was saying.


	10. Chapter 9: They're After Sam

Chapter 9: They're After Sam

People say that Time is like a wheel. Others say that it's a river. I think either way, the force that brings us life and eventually kills us, is always moving away from us while man struggles after it, trying to stop it, grasp it, hold onto it, if only for a brief moment.

Yeah, sorry. Didn't mean to get all philosophical on your ass.

But it's true, you know. Once Time slips away, it's gone for good. That second of your life, it's gone. You'll never have it again. And that's the way life works. Sometimes you beg God just to give you back a little bit of Time, just give me back that day, that month, that year... And that's what memories are for. Bittersweet and overripe, memories are just the lost fruits of Time, the ones that have fallen from the tree and rolled our way and we put them in our eternal gathering basket to save for later. Hey, that was pretty poetic, wasn't it? Not bad, either.

Yeah, life's a bitch. An old lover that's served the whim of man for far too long and has decided to take revenge, it seems. Hehe, at least that's how I feel sometimes. But life's too short to complain. Or maybe that's worth complaining over, I don't know. Man, Sam would laugh at me if he heard me talking like this...

Look, my point is, live while you can. Don't worry about regret, you'll probably be dead before you even think to regret anything. But I guess that's not true... There are things I regret. Let's just hope there isn't any more.  
-------------------------------------------  
Dean silently studied the picture in his hand as Sam drove them back to the hotel. His mind wasn't exactly on the picture, though. He was thinking about... Well, actually, he wasn't really thinking about anything. He could put clues together. Clues? What clues? As far as he was concerned, this was the most random job they had ever done. Sometimes it was best just to go back from the beginning to sort things out.

_Emily was killed five years ago and her twin claimed that spirits had done it and was admitted to an asylum. Emily's ghost contacted us, told us Jessica's room number, led us to the train station and the church. The station was clean except for a room with necromancy symbols painted all over the place. Man, we should have swept the place with an EMF to check for recent activity. There's another kick to give myself for not thinking about it. Then we go to the church where Sam and I are almost shoved into a well by a ghost. Now Emily is sending Jessica pictures of me._

Try as he might, though, Dean could not piece everything together. Who would be summoning spirits. He had to admit. Sam was right. There was no motive.

"You look stressed."

"I'm not stressed," Dean replied from the passenger seat.

"We'll figure this out."

"I didn't even say anything," Dean snapped in reply.

"I could tell you were thinking it," Sam answered.

"Okay, Missouri," Dean replied, sitting up straighter in his seat.

Sam laughed at that comment, but let it slide. "Where are we headed?"

"What time is it?"

"A little past two."

"Well, do you think that Mr. and Mrs. Hoffkins are home?" Dean asked with a twinkle in his eye.  
-------------------------------------  
"Thank you for coming, Doctors," Mrs. Hoffkins said, "Please, sit down. Can I get you anything? Coffee, tea?"

"We're not planning on staying long," Sam replied.

Dean studied the woman before him. She was tall with graying black hair and brown eyes. She could only have been in her late fifties at most, but it seemed that Time had not been kind to her. Maybe it was the grief of loosing both daughters that had caused her to age so quickly.

The father, on the other hand, seemed much younger in contrast, though he was obviously the same age. His brown hair had been saved from any silver thus far and his eyes, green like his girls', were bright and vibrant.

The parents both sat down on the love seat while Dean and Sam took the couch.

"Thanks again for seeing us," Sam told them, "We wanted to ask you a few questions about Jessica, and Emily, too, if you're willing."

When the parents made no reply, only nodded in consent, Dean took that as a sign to continue.

"Okay, then," he said, "We wanted to know how long Jessica's claimed to see spirits." No point in beating around the bush.

"Since her sister died," Mrs. Hoffkins replied automatically... A little too quickly, Dean noted.

"If your daughters were seeing things, Mrs. Hoffkins, we need to know," Sam urged, "Now we don't think her condition was brought on by trauma, so it may have manifested when she was much younger. Is it possible that you never knew?"

"Now see here," Mr. Hoffkins huffed, "Our daughter was not crazy! When Emily died... Well, you know how twins are! It destroyed her, and she couldn't handle it!"

"Mr. Hoffkins, we're just trying to understand all this," Dean replied, "and we need to know. That's why we ask."

Dean understood these parents' need to hold onto the memory of their lost children, but he could tell that they were hiding something. He looked up and his eyes happened to glimpse a picture on the wall of the twins when they were about five years old.

"That picture," Dean said, indicating it with his head, "Do you see anything unusual in it?"

"No," the mother snapped, barely glancing at the photo.

Dean stood and took the frame from the mantle, handing it to the father.

"Mr. Hoffkins?"

The man seemed to glance at his wife, then hesitate. He nodded almost reluctantly.

"The lights," he said quietly.

"It was a foggy day!" Mrs. Hoffkins snapped.

"They're in all the pictures of the girls," the father admitted, handing the picture back to Dean, who put in back on the mantle.

"So this didn't just start when Emily died?" Sam asked.

The father shook his head, but the mother was staring at her clasped hands, unmoving.

"Why'd you admit her if you knew she wasn't crazy?" Dean all but growled.

"When didn't know what else to do!" the father replied desperately, "We didn't want the same thing that had happened to Emily to happen to Jess, so we had her admitted."

"You think a straight jacket and some padded walls are going to protect her?" Dean snapped.

"Dean," Sam said softly, noticing that his brother seemed very upset that the girl's own parents had admitted her. When Dean stayed quiet, Sam continued. "Do you know exactly what happened to Emily?"

"Look, if you're doctors," Mrs. Hoffkins snapped, "then shouldn't you be able to just accesss her files and see for yourselves? Why do you have to come here and bother us? Get out! Now!"

"Does Free Hope Church mean anything to you?" Dean asked, "Or the old train station?"

Mrs. Hoffkins' eyes shot up and she gave Dean a very dark look that caused a chill to course up the older brother's spine, but he stood his ground and stared her in the eye. He had to know and she was the only one who could tell him. But it seemed she would not answer, only glare at Dean instead.

"She was buried in the cemetery at Free Hope Church," Mr. Hoffkins offered.

"Did the girls used to go there?" Sam asked, remember the picture of the two girls in front of the church.

"All the time," the older man answered, "They said..." He hesitated.

"Go on," Dean urged softly, turning away from Mrs. Hoffkins, but still feeling her eyes on him.

"They said that there was a gateway there."

"A gateway? To what?" Sam asked.

Mr. Hoffkins' eyes met Sam's and there were tears glistening in them.

"To the spirits," he whispered, "They said they went there to talk to them, to try and help them. We didn't know. We thought they were just being kids. We never knew."

"She fell into the well, didn't she?" Dean asked. _But it's more than just a well._

"She didn't fall into the well!" Mrs. Hoffkins suddenly snapped, standing and yelling directly at Dean. "She was pushed! She wouldn't stop meddling with ghosts and the like and she was pulled in there!! Something pulled her in there, and it wasn't human!"

Mrs. Hoffkins suddenly collapsed into sobs and Dean had to catch her before she hit the floor. Mr. Hoffkins ran over and helped lower his wife to the couch.

"Your brother is the same as my baby girls!" she sobbed, pointing at Sam, "I can See it!"

Dean glanced at Sam, but turned back to the woman.

"Mrs. Hoff-"

The elder lady surprised Dean by grasping his shirt and pulling him closer. Her hands were like ice, her grip like steel, as he tried to pull away.

"Don't let him go back to the well," she whispered in his ear, "They'll take him, too, just like they did my Emily!"

Suddenly the mother's hands went slack and she fainted. Dean pulled away from her, visibly shaken by what she had told him. He glanced at his brother. Yeah, Sam seemed shaken, too. Okay, he didn't feel like such a wuss now.

Mr. Hoffkins turned to the two Winchester.

"I'm sorry about this," he said, "I really am." His eyes kept straying to Sam as he spoke, but then he would pull them back to Dean, as if he didn't want the boys to notice.

"It's alright," Sam replied. "Is your wife...?" he couldn't finish the sentence.

"She's very sensitive to... things," the man replied, "See, her mother died when she was 6 months old in a fire..."

Dean and Sam's eyes widened and they both turned to each other even as the man continued to speak.

"...and she says that she's... Well, that she's a psychic. Please, don't think she's crazy! She's not. Sometimes she really does know things."

"Mr. Hoffkins," Dean replied, "One more question. Do twins run in your's or your wife's families?"

"Why, no," the man replied, staring at Dean questioningly.

"Let's go, Sammy," Dean said to his younger brother.


	11. Chapter 10: Dean's Vision

Chapter 10: Dean's Vision

"Well, that was just a little weird," Sam commented once they were in the hotel room.

Dean placed the picture that Jessica had drawn on the table and proceeded to take off his jacket. Sam could tell by the far-off look in his eyes that he was lost in thought.

"She said something pulled Emily into that well," he mused.

"The well must be a gateway of some sorts, like the girls said," Sam replied.

Dean glanced at Sam as he sat down on the bed across from his younger brother.

"When I was trying to get you out of the well, I felt like something was trying to pull me down with you," Dean told him, "but it was really after you the whole time."

"What do you mean?" Sam asked.

"Mrs. Hoffkins told me to watch you, that because of your abilities, you'll be the one it goes after."

"Whatever It is," Sam muttered. "Do you think... Dean, do you think that the same demon who killed Mom killed that woman's mom, too?"

"Yeah, I think so," Dean replied without hesitation, "but who would have thought that an ability like that could continue along the bloodline?"

_Great,_ Sam thought, _So my kids might be freaks, too._

"Why did you ask if they had a history of twins?" Sam wondered out loud.

"I don't know," the older Winchester replied, "It just seemed important for some reason. Think about it."

Sam nodded. "I read somewhere that in cases like this, sometimes a psychic's power is so strong that it can't be contained within one person. Do you think that's why she had twins? To divide the power?"

"That's the best theory I've heard so far," Dean answered with a shrug.

"But we still haven't figured out something."

"What's that?"

"Who's summoning the spirits?"

"I thought you said I was drawing conclusions from nothing," Dean replied with a raised eyebrow.

"You were drawing conclusions from your intuition," San answered, "and I trust that."

"Maybe we should go back to the train station again," Dean suggested.

"I'd like to get another look at that well," Sam answered, "Maybe get an EMF reading."

Dean frowned at that idea. "I think that if anyone should go back to the well, it should be me."

"Why?"

"Dude, you heard what that woman said," Dean argued, "It's after people like you! I'll be in less danger."

"I can come, too. You don't need to go there alone."

"Sam, I can't protect you all the time!" Dean snapped, "As much as I want to, I can't."

Sam's eyes narrowed at the comment. Was Dean calling him a burden?

"I never asked you to protect me," he said softly.

"I didn't mean it like that, Sammy."

"It's Sam," the younger brother snapped.

"Listen, it's just-" Dean began, but was cut off as Sam continued.

"Dean, I'm sorry if you think that I'm a burden and that you have to protect me all the time, and I'm sorry if it bothers you. But I can take care of myself!"

"Sam," Dean said softly, "I would die for you. Not because you asked, just because I would. And you are not a burden. Try to understand. The same reason you don't want me to go alone is the same reason I don't want you there at all: I'm afraid you'll get hurt. It's not that I _think _I have to protect you, it's that I _want_ to protect you. It's a brother thing, man, and I'm sorry if it makes me a bad brother, but I can't help it."

"No, I understand," Sam replied, feeling guilty for starting an argument.

"I'm just scared," Dean continued, "That I'll turn my back for a second and something might go wrong."

Sam smiled.

"What?" Dean asked.

"You are such a friggin' softy it's hilarious."

"I'm not a softy," Dean replied hotly, "I'm a big brother."

Sam sighed. "So, you're going to Free Hope and I'm going to the station?"

"Yeah, but tomorrow," Dean answered, "It's getting late. Let's grab some dinner, than crash."  
-------------------------------  
_He's standing at the church in the moonlight, looking in the trees to the path that leads to the well. The trees look dark and menacing in the starlight and they seem to close in around them as he makes his way slowly down the path. The night is so quiet, but there's something, some kind of energy, in the air._

"Dean..."

He's not surprised to hear his name. He's heard it called a lot lately. But one thought is troubling him.

Isn't Sammy supposed to be the one with the weird dreams?_ he wonders._

But he's there now, standing in front of the old well. It seems to whisper to him, to beckon him, with a voice filled with the wisdom of the ages.

He can't tell if the place feels good or evil. Maybe it's just neutral from all the spirits that pass in and out of this place.

"Dean."

He turns at the sound of her voice, the girl who he knows now as Emily.

"Emily," he calls out to her.

She shakes her head. "No, Dean. Listen."

He expects her to keep talking, but she doesn't, so he assumes she wants him to hear something else. He turns his ears to the trees around them, straining to pick up something. He hears his own heartbeat, his breathing, and beyond that he hears.. Voices. A chorus of voices.

"They're calling from the gateway," she says, "Calling for someone to let them out. My sister and I tried to help them, but we failed. Now someone else is trying to summon them."

"Who?" Dean asks "I need to know who."

"The spirits in that well are neither good or evil," she continues, ignoring his question," They only want their freedom, So they've been gathering power through the lives of people like your brother. That's why you cannot bring him here."

"Emily, tell me who is summoning the spirits!" Dean insists, walking towards her and grabbing her forearms, looking into her green eyes. "Please, I can stop this if you tell me!"

"You're in her way," the girl says, turning her eyes away from Dean. "She'll kill you first and then feed your brother to the spirits to free them. She's powerful; I don't know if you can stop her."

"Who is she, Emily?" Dean urges softly.

"She's watching!" the girl hisses "I cannot tell! She'll know and she'll come for me, and I'm afraid!"

Dean bites his lip in frustration." Just give me some sort of clue, please. For my and my brother's sakes. If you want to help us you have to tell me."

"Under the willow tree!" she shrieks, "She's hides them under the willow tree!"

"Emily, please, tell me what I need to know! She won't hurt you. I promise! I won't let her." Dean says frantically.

"The well, Dean, the well!"

He turns as he hears a noise behind him, a growl slowly becoming a roar. He sees the well and suddenly the soft chorus of voices inside becomes loud, almost deafening.

"She's trapped, Dean, and you're the only one who can pull her out!" the girl shouts above the roar.

"Pull who out?" he asks.

"Emily!"

He looks at the girl in confusion. This is_ Emily._

"I don't understand!"

She only points to the well. He walks over to its edge to peer inside. But then he feels a hand grab him and pull him forward. He grips the side of the stone well to keep from falling in, but the tug grows stronger. He holds on with everything he has, but it's not enough. There are too many hands trying to pull him in. He feels himself ripped into the blackness, and then he is falling, and he hears the girl shouting his name...  
-----------------------  
"Dean!"

The older Winchester awoke with a crash as he fell from the hotel bed. 

"Dean!" he heard Sam's voice and groaned as he struggled to untangle himself from the blankets.

"Ow," he mumbled as Sam gave him a curious look. "What are you staring at?"

"Are you alright?" Sam asked, helping his brother up off the floor.

"I'm fine. Sorry I woke you up."

"I wasn't a sleep," Sam answered, giving his brother an odd look as he sat across from him. "Did you just have a nightmare?"

Dean looked up and noticed the smile struggling not to make itself seen on Sam's lips. He glared at the younger man.

"Yeah, well if you had been asleep, Miss Emily Rose would've visited you instead, so I wouldn't be laughing."

Sam instantly became serious. "What'd she say?"

"Nothing useful," Dean grumbled, "Why were you awake?"

"I just couldn't sleep," Sam admitted, "So I was doing more research."

"Oh, our culprit's a girl," Dean said, "Couldn't get a name, though, sorry. And she said something else that I can't figure out."

"What's that?" Sam asked.

"She told me to pull Emily from the well."

Sam frowned. "So she wants us to pull her spirit from the well. Why is that so unusual?"

"Because, Sam. How can she be in the well if she's been with us the whole time?"


	12. Chapter 11: A Locket and a Willow Tree

Chapter 11: A Locket and a Willow Tree

Dean stared out the diner window, nursing his second cup of coffee and watching the small town come to life in the early morning hours. The small restaurant was full of the smell of bacon and sausage and fresh baked biscuit.

"So, what else did she say?" Sam asked.

"Something about a willow tree," Dean replied.

Sam frowned. "That's vague."

"It's all vague," Dean replied irritably, "and it's all confusing. I need to go and see that well again today, try to find Emily's grave."

"I'll go to the train station, maybe visit that construction site and some the victim's families," Sam offered.

Dean nodded, taking another gulp of the hot coffee.

"Just be careful," Sam warned, "I know you're sick of me saying it, but," he smiled, "it's a brother thing."  
--------------------------------------  
Sam stood outside the train station once again, looking up at its gloomy, abandoned exterior. He let himself in as he and his brother had before. Turning on his flashlight, he traced the path he had taken in his dream to the door at the end of the hall.

He stood studying the different symbols on the walls. Some of them he recognized, but others he had never seen before. He swept the EMF around the room, picking up slight spikes in energy, but nothing phenomenal or noteworthy. He decided to look around for anything else. He was just about to give up on this task when something shining in the corner caught the flashlight beam.

"Bingo," Sam muttered as he bent down to retrieve the object.

It was a golden locket shaped like a heart. And on the front was engraved the word _Emily_.  
-------------------------------  
Dean got out of the Impala, not entirely thrilled by being back at the old church. He remembered his dream and it sent a shiver through him, even in the warm sunlight. Shutting his car door, he began pulling weapons and salt out of his trunk. Better safe than sorry, especially after he had been warned to stay away from here by a spirit.

Not really wanting to see the well just yet, Dean decided to find Emily's grave first. His heart gave an excited leap when he saw that her tombstone was under a willow tree.  
---------------------------  
Sam opened the locket. Inside was a picture of the two girls, forever caught in a grin. Sam smiled at the happy look on their faces. How normal they looked...

_But they weren't normal,_ Sam reminded himself, _They had abilities like me. And still they were happy._

Sam pocketed the necklace, feeling a tinge of hope in his heart. He stood then, and swept his flashlight across the room again. He used his notebook to copy some of the symbols, then decided that there wasn't much else he could do there. He silently wondered if Dean was alright. He'd call if he was in trouble, right?

Somehow, Sam didn't feel any better even with that thought. He didn't like the idea of Dean being alone near that well. It was a gateway, after all. Sam sighed. Thinking about it wasn't going to help him stop worrying. He put his notebook back in his pocket and left the train station.  
------------------------------  
_Emily told me that she hid them under the willow tree,_ Dean thought, _but what are they?_

Before he could think about it anymore, his cell phone rang.

"Yeah?" he asked, seeing that it was Sam.

"Anything?" his brother's voice came over the line.

"Found a willow tree," Dean said.

"Really? That's great, Dean. It's a start."

"Yeah. You?"

"I found a locket in the station. It belonged to Emily."

Dean frowned. He didn't know how to fit that into the puzzle.

"Alright, well where you headed now?" Dean asked.

"I guess the construction site," Sam said with a sigh.

"I'll try to meet you there," Dean answered.

"Hey, Dean." 

"Hm?"

"I think that..."

"Sam?" Dean asked as static invaded the line. "Sam?" There was no reply. "Sammy!" He waited a few more moments before hanging up the phone. "Shit."

A breeze came through the old cemetery, causing leaves to fall from the trees and scatter in the wind.

_Dean..._

_Not again,_ the older Winchester thought as he turned to find the source of the voice.

As he turned, he noticed a person standing near the church.

"Who the hell?" he muttered, watching as the person started toward the path that led to the well. "Hey!" he shouted, "Hey, stay away from there!"

When the person ignored him and kept going, Dean was very irritated.

"Dammit," he breathed, running after the unsuspecting person.  
--------------------------  
"Dean? Dean!" Sam shouted as the line went dead. "Shit. That can't be good."

Suddenly a pain shot through Sam's head, sudden and hot like fire, that caused him to crash to his knees with a cry. He was swept into the vision like it was a current, unable to fight it. Images flashed before his mind's eye.

_He was running along the path that led to the well. No! He couldn't go there. He knew what was waiting._

Suddenly there were voices, screaming at him, calling him!

Come to us! Save us! We need you!

_Screaming voices, screaming people, tearing at his senses, and he couldn't get away!! He was falling, falling into blackness, and though he thought that void was the well it was actually unconsciousness... Then there were other voices, human voices._

"Oh my God, is he alright?"

"Are you alright, young man?"

"Somebody call an ambulance!"

And then he was gone, washed into the black world of sleep by the vision that had overwhelmed him.


	13. Chapter 12: Jessica's Secret

Chapter 12: Jessica's Secret

"That stupid person!" Dean muttered under his breath as he chased after the stranger, "Going to get themselves killed!"

Dean skidded to a halt as he came to the clearing where the well was. Breathing a little heavier because of the run, he looked around, but nobody was there.

_Shit,_ he thought, _I was lured here._

Suddenly the clearing was filled with voices and ear-splitting cries that broke the silence. Dean felt a force grab him and pull him forward. He held out his hands and grabbed the side of the well before he could be pushed inside. Straining with everything he had, he tried to escape the force that was pulling him inside and the voices that called out to him, pleading for his help.

"_Help us!_"

"_Why won't you free us!_"

"_How many people have you saved and you won't save us?!_"

"_Dean!_"

"Sorry," Dean breathed as he pushed himself farther from the well, "but I have somebody else to take care of here, and I'm not leaving him!"

_"You'd choose one soul over hundreds?!"_

_"I thought you could free us!"_

For a moment Dean feared that he wouldn't get free of the force that was pulling him, and then he heard another voice call out to him, and this one he recognized.

_Dean!_

"Sammy," he gasped, feeling something else pulling him. It wasn't any supernatural force at all, though, it was his love for his baby brother. "Don't worry, Sammy. I'm coming..."

_God, Emily. If you're there, I need you to help me! _Dean silently pleaded. _I swear I'll save you, but let me help my brother! I can't do this alone._

And then there was nothing pulling him and he fell back from the well and onto the ground. He looked up to see the young woman standing by the well.

"Go. Hurry," she said, "Your brother needs you. I'm holding the souls at bay for now, but I won't be able to for long."

"Thank you, Emily," he said as he stood.

Once again she shook her head at the name. "No, Dean. Don't you see yet?"

"See what?" he asked.

"You have to save Emily, but first go to your brother."

"But if you're not Emily, than who are you?" Dean replied.

"Go!" she cried, a look of pain crossing her face, and he knew that it was the souls of the well trying to break free.

Dean spared her one last look before he ran back to the Impala, pulling out his cell phone to call Sam as he ran. The phone rang once, twice. No answer.

"Come on, Sammy, pick up the phone," Dean mumbled as he jumped in the car and started the engine.

There was a click on the other line and an unfamiliar voice.

"Hello?"

"Um, Hello," Dean said, confused, "I'm trying to call my brother. Do you-"

"Sir," the other man replied, "I'm Dr. Rice. Thank goodness you called. Your brother is in the hospital."  
---------------------------------------  
Sam's head hurt. Very bad. That was his first thought as he slowly gained consciousness. His second thought was, what's that beeping noise I wish it would stop it's annoying. He groaned, opening his eyes to the glare of a white light.

"Sammy."

The voice was Dean's, he was sure of it. But why would Dean have that hitch in his voice like that? He sounded so soft, so alone, so worried...

"Oh, God. What happened?" Sam asked as he realized he was lying in a hospital bed. He looked up into his big brother's face. A relieved grin was spreading across Dean's face as he was Sam waking up.

"Dammit, Sammy, you scared the shit out of me," he cursed, but that Winchester smile was still there.

"Dean, what happened?" Sam repeated.

"I'm not sure," he replied, "They said you just collapsed. Had to call an ambulance to get you."

"Oh, yeah..." Sam said, "I sort of remember that."

Dean ran a tired hand through his hair. "Sammy, I'm so sorry."

"Quit calling me Sammy," the younger brother replied, "and why are you sorry?"

"Because, I should have been there," Dean answered, "I'm sorry I left you. I didn't-"

"Dean," Sam interrupted, "This isn't your fault." He sat up so that he could look directly at his brother and not up at him. It was unusual the other way around. "You don't know when a vision's going to hit me."

"Is that what it was?" he asked, "A vision?"

"Yeah."

"Of what?"

"I'm... not really sure," Sam answered hesitantly, "It was really hard to see. I don't really remember much of it, just that it was so intense."

"Must have been, to knock you flat on your ass," Dean replied with a smile.

"Wow. This is really embarrassing. When can I get out of here?"

"Let me talk to the doctor," Dean suggested, "You just take it easy. I'll be back in a minute."  
----------------------------------  
Though Sam seemed alright, the doctors wanted to keep him there overnight just in case, something that didn't sit too well with the younger Winchester. The last place he wanted to be while there was a hunt going on was in a hospital bed.

"Hey, Sam."

"Yeah?"

"Will you be alright here alone for a couple hours?" Dean asked.

"Sure, why?"

"Because," Dean answered, "I think that I need to go see Jessica again."

Sam frowned at the idea as he looked up at Dean.

"I don't understand."

"Neither do I," Dean said with a small smile, "It's just a hunch."

"When it comes to you," Sam replied, "those are usually right."  
---------------------------  
"It's good to see you again, Dr. Marcus," Dr. Simon greeted, "It's good to see you again."

"Yeah, man, I need to speak to Jessica," Dean said hurriedly, wanting to get back to Sam as soon as possible.

"Doctor, I know you're well aware that this patient does not speak."

"Just let me see her!" Dean snapped.

Dean shut the door behind him as he entered Jessica's room. She sat at the same table as before and he sat across from her again.

"Jessica," he said softly, "It's Dean. Do you remember me?"

The girl sat drawing, not looking up.

"Jess, I need your help. I think my brother's life may depend on it." When she said nothing, Dean continued. "Emily's been trying to speak to me and I don't know what she's trying to say."

Jessica shook her head forcefully, glaring at Dean. She showed him the picture she was drawing. It was a picture of him at the well, and Emily holding back the spirits so they couldn't pull him into the gateway.

"How do you know about this?" he asked. "Did Emily show this to you."

She shook her head again, hair flying, and stood, taking Dean's hands as she did so. Her hands were cold, but soft and small. He looked up into her green eyes, sensing that she was trying to tell him something.

"It's not Emily, is it?" he asked her softly, "Jessica, who's speaking to me?"

Jessica's face twisted into one of frustration.

"Jess, you're going to have to tell me, because I don't understand," Dean said.

_"Than listen!"_

Dean wasn't sure if the shout had come from her mouth or only echoed inside his head, but he was stunned by the volume of it. Jessica suddenly slammed his wrists painfully down on the table and held them there with a strength he wouldn't have guessed she had.

But he suddenly wasn't in her room at the asylum anymore. He was somewhere else... He looked around. The train station. That's where they were. And standing in front of him was the girl, Emily.

"No, Dean!" she all but shouted, "Not Emily!"

Then it dawned on him what the spirit had been trying to tell him all along. Actually, it hadn't been a spirit at all, had it?

"Jessica?" he whispered.

"Yes, Dean. Jessica," she said, seeming relieved that he understood.

"It never was Emily, was it?" he asked, "You were speaking to us this whole time. You're a telepath."

Jessica nodded. "Yes, Dean. And I need you to save my sister."


	14. Chapter 13: Voices of the Broken

Chapter 13: Voices of the Broken

Dean was stunned by the revelation of what was happening. Then again, he also was mentally kicking himself for not seeing it sooner. It all made sense now. Jessica had come to them, probably sensing them through Sam, and knew that they were her best hope for saving her sister. And of course she would want to pull her sister's spirit from the well. Emily was probably calling out to her. Dean could only imagine that kind of connection.

"If you want me to save your sister," Dean said to Jessica, "You have to tell me who's summoning the spirits from the well to kill people."

"You don't have to know that to save her," Jessica said, and he could see the desperation in her eyes. She wasn't apathetic to the plight of others, she had just been waiting so long, five years, for someone to come along to help her.

"I will help her, Jessica," Dean said, "but there are other people I have to help, too."

"But she'll kill you!" the girl cried, grasping the front of Dean's jacket desperately, "You can't stop her!"

"It's for me to try. Now give me her name."

"I can't."

"Jessica!"

"No, Dean! I really can't! I'm bound be her power. Everything I do is within her parameters."

"I don't understand," Dean replied. Boy, it seemed like he was saying that a lot lately.

"She monitors my psychic activity, Dean. I've already put you in terrible danger by coming to you, but I didn't know where else to go! I'm sorry for that, Dean. But if I tell you her name then there will be no hope for you or Sam. Or me. She'd kill me too. So you see, I can't tell you."

"I'll take the risk," Dean hissed.

"But would you risk me?" she asked honestly, "Or your brother?"

Dean took a deep breath and let it out in a sigh. She was right. It wasn't worth the risk. But maybe if he asked the right question then he could get the right answer.

"What's the significance of the train station?" he asked.

"It's where she goes to summon them," Jessica replied.

"And how did the well become a gateway?"

"I don't know. It's just always been that way."

"And what's under the willow tree?"

"Her secrets."

"What does that mean?" he asked.

"Everything she's done that she regrets, she hides there. That's why Emily's buried there."

Dean frowned. "Wait a minute. Your mother told me that something pulled your sister into the well. So how can Emily be anyone's regret? Nobody killed her."

"Unless the thing that pulled her in had been summoned," Jessica answered.

Dean's hazel eyes registered his surprise at that comment, then understanding. "She was murdered?" he whispered.

Jessica nodded, tears shining in her eyes.

"I'm sorry, Jess," Dean told her.

"You couldn't do anything about it," she answered, "but you can still save her for me."

"Tell me how."

"You have to go back to the well. Pull her out like you pulled out Sam."

"I will," he said, "but first let me stop this woman."

"Dammit, Dean!" Jessica burst out, "Haven't you been listening? You can't stop her!"

"So you want me to just walk away?" Dean asked hotly, "Yeah, that's real noble of you! Save my sister, but leave everyone else to die! Sorry, sister, but that's not the way I operate!"

"And that's exactly why your brother and father will be burying you one day," Jessica replied, a tear sliding down her face. Dean was a little taken aback by the comment, but didn't show it as she continued. "Always trying to be the hero. You forget that I'm a telepath. I've seen your memories... Your future. "

Dean remained silent, but inside he couldn't deny the slight wave of fear that had crested inside of him, the thought of leaving Sammy and his father behind to finish the job. But that was in the future. This was now. She didn't say that he would die stopping this necromancer, so that was something.

"Thanks for your help," he told her.

"I haven't persuaded you, have I?" she asked.

He shook his head. "No. But thank you for trying."

He was surprised when she reached out and embraced him, burying her face in his leather jacket.

"Sorry," she said, "but I see very little people in the asylum, and I get a hug even less. It's just nice to be able to touch someone."

Dean smiled sadly, suddenly hurting for this girl. It wasn't fair that she was here. She wasn't crazy. And so, as she brought him back from the vision and into the asylum, he silently promised himself that before this was all done, he would try to help her as well.

Then he was sitting in the asylum again with his wrists held painfully down to the table. She let him go and sat back, her green eyes speaking to him more than words ever could.

"Thank you," he told her as he got up, opening the door to leave.

He gave her another smile as he waked out the door, but was stopped in his tracks by a voice behind him.

"Good bye, Dean."

He turned, and there she was, smiling widely. Those words had come from her mouth, not her head. Dean grinned.

"Good bye."

And as he left, he blew her a kiss on the way out.


	15. Chapter 14: Sam's Genius Idea

Chapter 14: Sam's Genius Idea

_He hears those voices again. Those tormented voices coming from the well. They scream for his help, but he doesn't know what to do. He's alone. He's not sure where Dean is, but he's afraid for some reason. Maybe it's just the energy in the air, or those voices calling to him. He just has this sense of foreboding that seems to envelope all his senses._

He realizes that he is at the well again. He knows that Dean warned him to stay away from it, but he can't help but walk towards it. Something draws him to it, and though he is trying to resist, he can't. He finds that he can't control his feet anymore.

He's standing beside the well now, looking down into its depths.

"SAM!"

There's one voice in particular that rises above the rest, that seems to call to him more than the others. But whose is it? He tries to figure out who it is by leaning farther over the well's mouth.

"SAM!"

Then he recognizes the voice. He's not sure how he recognizes it, considering that he was only a baby the last time he heard it, but he just knows somehow.

"Mom?" he whispers, horrified by the thought of her being trapped down there in that darkness.

Without a second thought, he jumps into the well to save her, to pull her free. The water is ice cold as he hits it. 

"Sammy!"

"Mom!" he calls, searching for her, but it's just so dark down here...

Then he feels a hand grab his foot and pull him under. He struggles, reaching up for something to grab, but another hand grabs his arm, then his other leg. He's trying to fight, but he can't and he feels the air draining from his lungs as he's pulled deeper and deeper. He's fighting for air, fighting to pull himself away from the arms that are dragging him under. He calls out to the one person who he knows can save him, can always save him...  
--------------------------------------------  
"Dean!"

"Sammy! Sammy, wake up!"

Sam gasped as his eyes flew open, surprised to find that he could breathe easily.

"Man, what the hell's the matter with you?" Dean snapped, seeing his brother was conscious enough to hear him now, "You scared the shit out of me! I come in here and you're not breathing or anything! Damn!"

Sam was a little taken aback by Dean's anger, but had to remind himself that it was only his way of showing that he was scared.

_He can be such an ass..._

"Are you alright?" Dean was asking in angry concern. "Sammy?"

"I'm fine, Dean," Sam snapped, getting tired of his brother shaking him, "Let me go, dude. I'm fine."

Dean took a step back, releasing his brother's arms and looking him over.

"What?" Sam asked.

"Are you going to tell me what happened?"

"No," Sam replied.

Dean raised an eyebrow in a warning that if Sam didn't tell him willingly, he'd tell him eventually through persuasion.

"I had a nightmare, alright?" Sam said.

"And you usually stop breathing when you dream, am I right?" Dean asked sarcastically.

"I was," Sam hesitated, "I was at the well. I jumped in to save Mom."

Dean's anger immediately melted away. "Sam, look at me."

The younger Winchester obeyed, looking up with tears shining in his eyes.

"Sam, Mom is not in that well. You understand me? Her spirit was destroyed back in Lawrence, remember? Whatever was calling out to you wasn't her. These things play tricks on people. You know that."

"Yeah, I know," Sam replied, "but that doesn't change the fact that it felt real."

Dean sighed and sat down on the bed next to Sam.

"I know," he said softly, "I know. I can only imagine what you feel, with all your dreams and premonitions. I wish there was a way for me to make it easier on you."

Sam smiled, feeling comforted by Dean's words and his rare show of emotion.

"Thanks, man. That means a lot to me. It really does." There was a moment of silence between the two before Sam added, "Now when are you going to get me out of this friggin' hospital?"

Dean laughed, surprising Sam still by reaching out and messing up his little brother's shaggy hair. He stood and walked over to the window, looking out at the sunset.

"Soon, Sammy. But first, I have some news."

"Is this about your trip to the asylum?"

"Yeah," Dean answered, "I found out something pretty interesting."

Dean told Sam all about how it had been Jessica who had reached out to them and not Emily and also about another psychic player who had murdered the twin and was now monitoring the other.

"Wow," Sam said, "I never would have guessed. But it does make sense. How would Emily have spoken to us if she was trapped in the well? It had to have been Jessica. I can't believe we didn't realize that before."

"I know," Dean answered, "but I was also right about the necromancy thing. Someone's summoning the spirits to attack people like you and the Hoffkin twins, trying to free the souls trapped in the well."

"That doesn't make sense," Sam replied, still not wanting to admit that Dean was right, "Why would anyone do that?"

"Maybe she's also trying to pull someone from the well?"

"By feeding more souls to it?"

"Until it bursts," Dean added grimly.

"Then how the hell are you supposed to save Emily?" Sam asked.

"There must be another way," Dean said thoughtfully, "But I'm not sure what it is yet."

Sam sighed, "Yeah, well, we'd better figure all this out soon, Dean. 'Cause I have a feeling that something big is going to happen."

"You too, huh?" Dean asked, looking back at his little brother. "I'm trying, but none of this seems to make much sense."

"I think we need to go back to the train station," Sam said, "I mean, we could go there and stake it out. Wait for whoever it is to show up."

"Yeah, man, but that could take forever," Dean replied, "How often do psychics wander into town?"

Sam smiled slyly. Dean immediately knew what Sam was thinking and began to shake his head before his brother even had time to speak.

"No. No, no, no," was all the older Winchester seemed to be able to say.

"Come on, Dean," Sam insisted, "You said it yourself, this could be our best opportunity to catch her."

"You just love throwing yourself in the way of danger, don't you?" Dean asked.

"It's fun to watch you squirm," Sam replied sarcastically.

"You think this is fun?" Dean asked, eyes widening in shock, not realizing that Sam was joking with him, "Preying on my emotions is fun?"

"I'm playing with you, Dean. Chill. But seriously. It's our best chance."

"No," Dean repeated, "Only on a cold day in Hell will I let you risk this."

"It's that or use Jessica as bait."

Dean's eyes narrowed at the thought.

"That's not an option, either."

"Well, Dean, I'm not seeing very many options here, so you need to pick something."

"Man, just slow down a minute and let me think!" Dean snapped, rubbing his eyes. "There has to be a third door."

"Maybe..." Sam began, "we need to pull Emily from the well."

Dean frowned, thinking about what Sam was saying. Ever since the start of this, all Jessica had told him to do was pull Emily from the well. He had assumed it was because she wanted to know that her sister's soul was safe, but what if there was another reason for it? What if they needed Emily's spirit to help them find, and capture, this killer.

"Sammy," Dean said, "You're a genius."


	16. Chapter 15: Into the Well

Chapter 15: Into the Well

"No, you are not coming with me!"

"Yes, Dean, I am. No way you're going to do this alone!"

"Sammy, you know that you're what these spirits want!"

"It's Sam."

"And you coming with me is like walking into a pit of vipers!"

Sam gave Dean a level stare. He had checked out of the hospital and was standing across the Impala from his brother. As usual, the older Winchester was being an ass. Nothing new there.

"Stop trying to protect me all the time, Dean," Sam said calmly, giving his brother the best puppy dog eyes that he could muster.

Dean stood his ground, but Sam could see him melting slowly. Sam just continued to stare.

"Alright," Dean finally gave in, "but dammit, Sammy, if you do anything stupid I swear to God I'll kill you myself."

Sam grinned as he opened the door to the Impala and got in.

"If Dad knew about this he would kill me," Dean muttered to himself.  
--------------------------------  
"Alright, here's the deal," Dean looked over at Sam as he parked the car at Free Hope Church, "You let _me_ pull Emily's soul out. You don't go near the well unless you have to. You feel any sudden urges to jump in, you leave. You hear anyone you know calling you name besides me, you-"

"Dean!" Sam interrupted, "I know. I can take care of myself. I, also, was raised by Dad you know."

Dean nodded and got out of the car. Sam followed him to the trunk and watched Dean pull out a number of items. Rifles with rock salt cartridges, rope, a flashlight, and matches and lighter fluid ("Just in case.").

As the two made their way down the trail towards the well, Dean in the lead and Sam in tow, the younger Winchester couldn't help but feel a sense of foreboding, not unsimilar to the one he had felt in his dream. He was uncomfortable with coming here, but there was no way that he was going to let Dean do something like this alone.

Sam could hear the voices coming from the well as they approached. They seemed louder than before, probably reacting to Sam's powers. The younger Winchester couldn't help but feel sorry for them, but there was no way that they could pull out every single soul. He wasn't even sure exactly how they were supposed to pull out one.

"Okay," Dean said as they came upon the well, "Jess told me I had to pull her out like I pulled you out. So I guess our best bet would be for me to go down there and you get ready to pull me up."

"That doesn't sound very safe," Sam commented.

"You got a better plan?" Dean asked.

"How are you supposed to find her once you're down there?"

Dean shrugged as he took the rope and tied it around a tree.

"Why can't I do this instead?" Sam asked, watching Dean, "Maybe with my abilities-"

"She said it had to be me, Sam," Dean interrupted, "Don't know why, but that's how it has to be."

Dean began tying the rope around his waist. So far, the pull that the well had exerted on them before was dull. Sam was thankful for that. But how long would this lull last, Sam wondered? Until Dean was in the well and Sam was up here alone? That's what Sam feared, that he would be of no use to Dean because he'd be fighting off the pull of the spirits from up here.

"Dude, you look sick," Dean commented, "You alright?"

"Fine," Sam answered, making sure that the rope was tight around the tree."

"Just listen for me," Dean instructed, pulling off his jacket and overshirt, "And try not to be pushed in." He tossed Sam one of the rifles. "Just in case."

"Be careful," Sam told his brother, thinking about the dream he had had in the hospital where he had been pulled under.

"Hey, Sammy. This is me we're talking about here," Dean said with a grin as he approached the edge of the well and looked down inside, "I'll be careful."

Sam nodded and watched his brother climb over the edge of the opening. Dean was instantly unsure, but realized there was no turning back at the same moment he realized he'd forgotten there was no handholds.

"Whoa!" he cried before plummeting into the well.

"Dean!" Sam yelled.

There was a loud splash and then the reply, "I'm alright!"

Sam couldn't help but smile. His brother was such an idiot.

Dean let himself tread water, shining the flashlight around the well.

_Alright,_ he thought, _Now what? It just looks like a well to me._

"Dean?" Sam called down.

"What?"

"You alright?"

"Fine, Sammy."

"You weren't saying anything."

"What am I supposed to say?" Dean asked, "I don't even know how to find Emily!"

"Close your eyes and feel for her or something," Sam suggested, feeling stupid his own words.

"Great idea, psychic boy. Things like that don't come as easy for me."

_Come on, Emily,_ he thought silently, _I'm here to save you, so show me how._

He continued to shine the light around the well, turning slowly in the water. Then his light caught a face close to his. He jumped back in surprise at the face of the spirit. It looked decayed and rotted, the hair plastered to its forehead, and might once have been a teenage boy, but Dean couldn't really tell.

Dean's back hit the well wall in his attempt to distance himself from the thing. He coughed as a rancid scent seemed to fill the air around him. Suddenly his flashlight flew from his hand and he was cast into darkness.

_Save us!_

Dean! Help! Pull us free!

Don't leave us here!

The chorus of voices began to call out to him again, just like before, only louder this time, and much more persistent.

"Emily?" Dean called, hoping that the girl's spirit would answer, "Emily!" 

Then he felt something grab his arm. He tried to jerk himself free, but something grabbed his leg and pulled. He felt himself dragged down into the icy water. He struggled and pulled against the invisible arms. They seemed to hold him in a death grip, unyielding fingers digging into his skin.

"Dean?" Sam called. He had heard nothing from the well but splashing and now he was getting worried. "Dean!"

Sam felt a cold breeze at his neck but couldn't hear the leaves in the trees shaking. He turned just in time to feel a force shove him backwards. He stumbled, but was able to turn so that he wouldn't fall into the well. He would be no good to Dean if he let something push him down there. Clenching the shotgun in his hand, he lifted it and fired. There was a screech that seemed to shatter the cool night, then only silence.

Sam turned back to the well, fear gripping at his heart.

"Dean! Dean!!"


	17. Chapter 16: Letting Go too Soon

Chapter 16: Letting go too Soon

I don't think it's the idea of dying that scares people; I think it's the inability to imagine what lies beyond death. Is there a Heaven? Is there a Hell? Is there nothing but an eternal black void? Or do we simply cease to exist? Or maybe we come back as somebody else. Hell, I don't know. That's one thing that I envy about religious people. They're so sure of their fate. They know. Does that make it real, I sometimes wonder?

I've had dreams about dying before. Well, nightmares, really. I'm heading toward this white light, and Mom's there waiting for me, but when I reach out to grab her, something pulls me back. And then suddenly all the evil things I've sent to Hell are pulling me down with them. Every demon I exorcised, every creature I killed... And then I wake up. Scares the shit out of me every time, but I won't tell Sammy about it. Can't tell him, I guess. How do you casually bring up the subject of death with the person you care about most?

It's something I think about a lot. I mean, with the kind of things that I've seen... Death is a very real possibility. I don't welcome it; I'll always fight to live. I guess that it's because I'm afraid of that dream coming true. And that moment in the well... It felt a hell of a lot like that dream. Too much like it.  
------------------------------------  
Dean felt his lungs burning as he fought for the surface. There was nothing to grab onto, and he couldn't see anything. Well, he was probably grateful for that. There was no telling what was grabbing him and pulling him down.

All thoughts of the girl had left his mind. He was more concerned about pulling himself out right now. Suddenly he felt a tugging at his waist and realized that he had reached the end of the rope. But still he felt those things pulling him.

A red fog began to seep into his vision as he fought. He felt his own struggles becoming less and less.  
------------------------------------  
Sam saw the rope grow taught. He reached forward to grab the rope and prepared himself to pull when he felt a force throw him backward. He hit the ground hard enough to knock the breath out of him and lay stunned for a second before pulling himself to his feet.

_Sam!_

Help us!!

Come into the well and save us!!

Use your power to help us!

Sam grabbed his head as the voices echoed loud enough in his mind to cause pain to shoot through his skull. He crashed to his knees, praying that the voices would just stop, just go away! He didn't see the rope around the tree slowly unraveling behind him.  
---------------------------------------  
Dean finally let fear seep into him as he realized that he couldn't get away. A darkness, blacker than any mere lack of light, was overcoming him.

_Dean..._

That voice. He recognized it.

_Jessica?_ he thought?

He opened his eyes and saw a light inside the well. Standing before him was a girl. It was Jessica... But wait, it had to be Emily. She reached out toward him.

_I'm sorry, I can't save you,_ he thought, _I can't even save myself right now._


	18. Chapter 17: Freeing Emily's Soul

Chapter 17: Freeing Emily's Soul

Sam felt the air grow cold around him as he knelt on the ground. The voices continued to grow steadily in his head, making it impossible for him to think.

Behind him, unseen by his eyes, the rope was almost done unraveling.

_Sam!_

Sam heard the cry through the roar of spirits, through the pain.

_Sam, get up!_

It was Jessica's voice. Jessica was trying to call to him again. Slowly, the younger Winchester pulled himself to his feet, doing his best to ignore the voices engulfing him.

Then he saw the rope that held Dean slacken. For an instant he hoped that meant Dean was alright, but then he was the rope rushing past him. Fearfully, he reached out and grabbed the end before it could fall into the well. The rope stayed slack for a moment, but them it was pulled hard from below and he was jerked forward, stumbling unceremoniously into the side of the stone well.

Fear continued to absorb him. What was happening to Dean? Was he alright?

Dean was surprised when the ropes slackened and he was yanked farther down by those invisible hands. What scared him more was to not be able to feel those hands, to go numb.

_No, I can't give up,_ he told himself.

He looked back up at Emily and saw that she was reaching out to him. Slowly, he took her hand, surprised to feel her warm fingers entwined with his. He looked into her green eyes and was suddenly hit with a flood of her memories.

"911, what's your emergency?"

Sam had managed to keep hold of the rope and pull out his cell phone from his pocket. He wasn't going to take a chance. If Dean wasn't answering, something was wrong.

"Yes, I'm at Free Hope Church," Sam said in a rush, "It's on Worley Cross Road. My brother's fallen into a well."

"We'll send an ambulance right away."

"Thank you."

The words had barely left Sam's lips when the phone was ripped from his hands. He felt a cold hand grab him from the back of his neck and then he was flying backwards away from the well.

"No!" he hissed when the rope slipped from his hands. He darted forward on hands and knees to snatch at it. He was surprised to find that there was no more pull on it from the other end.  
Standing, he began to pull his brother up, desperately praying that he could before the spirits attacked him again. Of course that was just wishful thinking though. A sudden jerk on the rope sent him falling forward. His head hit the edge of the well with a painful crack. Sam was stunned for an instant, feeling blood trickle from his brow. The pain was excruciating, but he wouldn't let it overwhelm him. Fighting off the want to slip into unconsciousness, he suddenly felt a presence beside him. Looking up, he saw that Jessica's form, ghost like but beautiful, knelt beside him.

_I'll hold them back while you save your brother_, she communicated to him, _but hurry! I cannot hold them for long._

Sam nodded. It took him longer than he wanted to pull Dean upwards. He vaguely thought about how his brother needed to lose weight as he strained, dizziness sweeping over him. As he wiped sweat off his forehead he was surprised to see how much blood came off on his shirt sleeve.  
Fear gripped Sam's heart like a vice as he pulled his brother's limp body out and gently lowered him to the ground.

_Not breathing,_ he though, _oh God, he's not breathing._ In the back of Sam's mind he heard sirens, but the only thing on the front of his mind now was Dean.

"Don't do this to me," Sam muttered out loud, "come on, Dean."

Sam laid his head against Dean's chest. Definitely not breathing. Imagining how his brother would react when he found Sam had given him mouth to mouth, but not really caring at the moment, Sam began the procedure.

_One, two, three_…he counted mentally as he pushed down on Dean's chest.  
"Come on, Dean…"

The sirens continued to grow closer, but Sam couldn't hear them. His mind was focused on one thing only. So he didn't notice when the paramedic approached him. A hand was laid on his shoulder and tugged at him gently.

"It's alright son," a quiet voice said, "We've got it from here."

Sam loathed to leave his brother's side, but was reluctantly pulled to the side as the paramedics moved in. His eyes never left Dean, though, and he found himself so gripped with terror that he was unable to breathe. The dizziness threatened to overwhelm him again and he found himself nauseous.

_Dear god, please, just let him be alright. I'll do anything, just let him be alright…_

Then he saw the girl kneeling beside Dean, the one that no one else seemed to see. Sam knew it wasn't Jessica, that it had to be Emily. She was smiling down at Dean and with a bolt of feat Sam feared she was some sort of Angel of Death. Then he watched as she leaned forward and laid her lips against Dean's. Then she was gone and Dean gasped, choking up water.  
Sam pushed past the paramedics until he was with Dean, kneeling where Emily had been.

"Dean," he breathed, "Dean."

That's all he seemed able to say at the moment. He swallowed, feeling relieved tears spilled from his eyes. Even though Dean was on his side vomiting well water, he was still alive and breathing and that's all that mattered.

"Mom…" Dean whispered softly as he lay still now. He opened his eyes slowly and looked up at Sam. "Mom…"

"Shhh," Sam replied, "Don't talk. Just relax. You're alright now.

"Sir, you're going to have to move aside," one paramedic said gently, "Please. Your brother's going to be fine, but we're going to take him to the hospital to make sure. Alright?"

Sam nodded, allowing himself to be led to the side, keeping Dean in his sight as if he was afraid he might vanish or suddenly keel over and die.

"Let me take a look at that."

"Huh?" Sam asked, looking up at the paramedic in confusion.

The man indicated Sam's forehead, where he was still bleeding.

"You look like you may have a concussion," the man said as he took out some supplies, "you should come to the hospital and get checked out yourself."

Sam nodded.

"Older or younger brother?" the man asked kindly as he wiped the blood from Sam's head

"Older," Sam replied, "4 years."

"Thought so," the paramedic replied, "I have an older brother too. Older by 7 years. Once, he took a bad fall, broke his arm. I didn't know how to act. You're so used to seeing them protect you that you forget they're not superheroes."

Sam smiled, letting the man's words wash over him. "Yeah, that's about right," he answered.


	19. Chapter 18: Meaning Behind Dean's Words

Chapter 18: The Meaning Behind Dean's Words

"Look, I appreciate all of this, but I really need to get to my brother," Sam insisted for what seemed like the hundredth time.

"Your brother's fine young man," the doctor said, "He doesn't have a concussion. Now stay still."

Sam sighed. He was sitting on an examination table in the hospital, getting poked and bandaged by doctors when really all he wanted was to be at his brother's side. Dean hadn't been conscious in the ambulance; he had seemed to be in more of a nightmare, his heart beat erratic and his breathing heavy. This had worried Sam greatly. Also the fact that Dean had said nothing since calling out for their mom. The doctors continued to assure Sam that he was alright, merely resting now, but that did nothing to assuage the younger Winchester's fears. He knew something had happened in that well, but couldn't be sure of what it was until he saw Dean.

Dean's head hurt…very badly…he tried to let himself fall back into sleep, that wonderful, painless abyss he was emerging from. But it hadn't been just blackness, had it? He had been dreaming, but he couldn't remember what it had been about. He did remember Jessica…but nothing else.  
Now there was a beeping in the room, constant and irritating. It took Dean a moment to realize that it was actually his heart-beat. He opened his hazel eyes.

_A hospital…_he thought, _what am I doing here?_

He closed his eyes and tried to remember what had happened. It came back to him slowly.

_Oh yeah, I almost drowned. Forgot. Wait a minute…where's Sammy?_

Before Dean could sit up and look around, the sound of the door to his room opening caught his ear.

"Sammy?" he asked softly.

There was a pause. "Oh you're awake."

Dean immediately sat up when he heard the woman's voice, alarmed. It must have shown on his face, because Mrs. Hoffkins took a step back in surprise, shutting the door behind her quietly.

"What are you doing here?" Dean asked.

Mrs. Hoffkins smiled, walking farther into the room.

"I'd heard you were here," she answered.

"Where's Sam?"

"I don't know," she replied, "but I've been to see Jessica. The doctor's say she's been…been speaking again. Ever since you visited her. You must be miracle worker."

"Well, I do my best," Dean answered sarcastically, "now if you don't mind-"

"I don't know why you are here, Dean," she interrupted, "but I do know that you are not a doctor."

Her cold eyes glared at Dean and he returned the stare with the same iciness.

"Yeah?" he asked, "Well, too bad I know exactly what you are, Mommy Dearest."

Mrs. Hoffkins' smile grew from warm to sinister.

"I was afraid of that," she replied, "that's why I'd gone to see Jessica."

"If you did anything to hurt her, I swear…" Dean threatened.

The words hung in the air around them. Dean was tense, not sure what to expect. Now he remembered everything that had happened. Emily had shown him exactly who had murdered her, who had summoned the spirits. Dean had tried to tell Sam, but it was obvious his brother hadn't understood his meaning. Now that killer was standing in front of him.

"How could you?" he asked, his voice trembling slightly with emotion, "She was your daughter, for God's sake."

"I don't have to answer to you!" the woman snapped.

"But you will answer to God!"

"You don't even believe in God," she hissed, "so don't preach to me. You forgot I can read your thoughts, young man."

"I want to know why. Why did you kill Emily and put Jessica the asylum?" Dean asked.

"Because you don't know what it's like!" Mrs. Hoffkins shouted, "You can't hear them! They call to me, night and day, wanting me to free them! I had to do something!"

Tears now stood out in the woman's eyes, but Dean had no sympathy for them.

"So you had the spirits murder your daughter? You could have done a hundred other things! You could have moved away, or…or thrown yourself in the damn well!"

"I realize that now," Mrs. Hoffkins answered, "that's why I put Jessica in the asylum. So I couldn't get to her."

"And so she couldn't tell anyone what you'd done." Dean added.

"That too," the woman replied coldly.

"So what about the other murders?" Dean asked, "The recent ones?"

"I never meant to do those," she replied, tears now running freely down her face.

"Liar," Dean whispered fiercely.

"It's true!" she cried, "I was trying to draw Emily's spirit out of the well so that Jessica would leave me in peace! She would torment me, day and night! I had to do something!"

"No matter what you say, you can't justify what you did," Dean replied.

"But now I know a way to free her," Mrs. Hoffkins continued.

"It's too late," Dean answered, "I already did."

"You couldn't have! For 5 years I've tried to pull her out and failed every time. How could you have done it? You don't even have powers like your brother!" she scoffed.

"Maybe because I was willing to sacrifice myself to do it," Dean said softly.

"You're lying," she whispered, "besides, my plan's already in motion."

"What plan?" Dean asked. He was met only by a fit of laughter from the woman. "What plan!" he repeated.

"I found a more powerful psychic," she replied, "one whose powers will destroy the gateway and release all the souls inside!"

Dean's heart sank at her words and his mouth went dry.

"What psychic?" he asked, already knowing the answer.

"Sam."

"You do anything to my brother," Dean said through clenched teeth, "I'll send you to Hell myself."

Mrs. Hoffkins seemed not to hear him, though. Instead, she was fidgeting with her purse, still laughing that crazy laugh.

"But first," she continued, "I have to deal with you…"

Mrs. Hoffkins pulled a gun from her purse and leveled it at Dean's chest.


	20. Chapter 19: A Bullet for a Brother

Chapter 19: A Bullet for a Brother

_Sam! Sam!_

A dizziness suddenly swept over Sam as Jessica's voice hit him. He shut his eyes to make the room stop spinning only to find himself somewhere else when he opened them. He was sitting in the grass under a willow tree and in front of him was a tombstone. Next to it sat the girl, Jessica.

_"Emily," _the girl corrected.

_"You're alright," _Sam said to Emily, _"I should thank you for saving my brother."_

_"Now's not the time for thanks,"_ Emily said hurriedly. _"Dean is in danger again."_

_"How?"_ Sam asked, fear tinting his voice.

_"He knows about Her!" _Emily replied, "_I told him and now she has come to get rid of him. She thinks it was Jessica who told him."_

_"Where __is__ Jessica?" _Sam asked, _"Is she alright?"_

_"She will be if you save Dean!"_ Emily insisted,_ "Now go!"_

"Sam? Sam?"

Sam opened his eyes; he was in the hospital again and the doctor was calling his name.

"Sam, can you hear me?"

"Dean," Sam breathed, "I have to go!"

He leapt from the examining table, pushing past the doctor. He knew which room his brother was in and ran there. He only hoped he wasn't too late.

Dean didn't have much time to register what had happened. One moment Mrs. Hoffkins had the gun pointed at him, the next she was spinning towards the door, as if anticipating something, or having a premonition…then Dean realized that she had foreseen someone as the door to the room sprang open.  
But no matter what he did Dean couldn't stop what happened next. A thousand times afterward he tried to envision a way that it would have ended differently, but even he knew there was nothing he could have done; that still didn't stop the guilt from eating away at him.  
He saw Sam rush into the room and, even without psychic powers, knew what would happen.

"NO!" he cried, leaping from the hospital bed.

Everything else was a blur to Dean. There were two gun shots. He saw the surprise in Sam's eyes before he staggered back, his body falling forward. He saw the woman flee, but he wasn't concerned about her any more. He fell at Sam's side, trying to fight off the panic that was engulfing his brain.

"Sam…Sammy…" he choked, pulling his brother into his arms, cradling his head against his body. "Oh God, Sammy…"

He pulled off his over shirt, pressing it against the two bullet wounds. God, there was so much blood…

_This can't be happening…_he told himself, no longer angry at anyone anymore, only scared.

"Dean…"

The fear, the pain, the weakness in his brother's voice tore at Dean's heart like a knife.

"Yeah, Sammy, I'm here," Dean said softly, trying to keep the tears out of his voice, from spilling from his eyes.

"Emily…told me…you were in trouble…"

It was too much. The tears came and he couldn't stop them. He buried his face in his little brother's hair and a sob escaped him.

"Oh God, Sammy, don't leave me. Don't you dare. Just hang in there. Everything's gonna be fine."

"You wouldn't…be crying…if you really thought that…" Sam's mouth twisted into a weak smile.

"Come on, little brother. Don't talk like that," Dean forced himself to say.

"I love you…Dean…"

Dean shook his head, swallowing a lump in his throat that must have been his heart. This couldn't be happening. It just couldn't. He didn't want to say good bye to his brother. He had fought his way from that well to protect him and now he was failing him.

"I love you too, Sammy," Dean whispered, laying his forehead against Sam's.

Distantly he heard voices, but all he concentrating on was Sam's heartbeats. How weak they sounded…How strained…But as long as he heard them it meant there was hope, and that hope was what Dean was clinging to. No more words needed to be said; all Dean could do now was hold his brother and try a hand at prayer.

Then there were doctors taking Sam away and men in white coats telling Dean to 'be patient. They were doing all they could'. Then men calling themselves the doctors were saying things to Dean that he couldn't understand. He sat in the waiting room, covered in Sam's blood, dazed, studying the bruises on his arms and wrists where spirits had grabbed him. That seemed like an eternity ago now, although it had only been hours. It was another time, another world, another Dean. Now it was only Sammy and this haze he was struggling in. Then he found himself struggling through a weak prayer.

_God, if you're there…Then save my brother, please. I know I don't have any right to ask and I know I don't deserve anything from you…but please. I'll never ask you for another thing ever again. And Sammy doesn't deserve to die… If you have to take someone, then take me. I'd be willing to die for Sam. Just don't take him away from me….please._

There are no words to describe my fear at that moment. I kept having to tell myself that it wasn't my fault. And really, it wasn't. But that didn't change anything in my eyes. I'm his big brother. I'm supposed to be able to stop bullets, fly, and leap tall buildings in a single bound. I know I can't do those things, and so does Sam on the outside, but deep down he still truly believes that I can. And that's why I failed him. But life's too short to pretend I'm a superhero. Life's too short for guilt. It's even too short for regret.


	21. Chapter 20: A Child Again

Chapter 20: A Child Again

It seemed that Dean had to wait an eternity for any news on his brother's condition. Half of him wanted to chase down the bitch who had shot him, but his other half could not bare to leave until he had seen Sammy and knew he was alright. But now he was tired of nurses, tired of doctors, tired of waiting…

Dean pulled out his cell phone. His fingers hovered over John Winchester's number, but did not fall. How likely was he to actually pick up the phone anyway? He never picked up. Why did Dean think that calling him now would make a difference? _Because it's Sammy who's hurt._

He immediately regretted the thought, but now that he'd admitted it to himself he couldn't banish it from his head. He felt a sudden grief overwhelm him.  
_Sam's hurt; Dad's gone; Mom's dead…_

All the years of his life flashed back to him as he sat in that waiting room. Four of those years, though he hardly remembered them, had been his happiest. He'd been normal and oblivious to the evils he now faced daily. Dad had been a father. Mom had been alive…  
He only faintly remembered his mother, but he knew that he had loved her very much. John and Mary Winchester had once read him bedtime stories and tucked him in at night.  
John had told him once about how much Dean reminded him of Mary. It had been a rare emotional moment for his father and it had been made after Sam had left for college. He had said that Sam was passionate like him, and focused, and once their minds were set on something they would never turn back.

"But you…" John had said, staring off into memory, "You've always taken after your mother. Family comes first for you, like it did for her." Then he had turned to Dean , seeming to study him for a moment before continuing, "Every time I look at you I see Mary's face. You have her eyes, you know."

Dean was surprised to find that his fingers had automatically dialed John Winchester's number. He cleared his throat, wondering what type of voice message he should leave as he listened to the phone ring.

"Hello?"

All the words left Dean Winchester's mouth at that moment. Good God, was his father actually on the other line?

"Hello?"

"D-Dad?" Dean stammered, having to force the words out.

"Dean?" the tired, gravelly voice replied, sounding just as surprised, "What the hell are you doing calling me at three in the morning?"

"What the hell are you doing actually answering your phone?" Dean asked smartly. "Shouldn't I be discussing my problems with your voicemail by now?"

"What's wrong?" John asked, suddenly sounding more awake, "What's happened?"

_Here we go_, Dean thought. "Dad, it's Sam," he said, his voice now trembling. "He's, uh…He's hurt pretty badly."

"How badly?" John asked automatically.

"Not sure," Dean whispered, "Doctors won't say."

"Dean how could you let this happen?"

"He was shot. I don't-"

"Dean, how could you let that happen?!" John asked angrily.

"Dad I-"

"Tell me where you are."

Dean felt a twinge of jealousy and suddenly felt guilty for it. John hadn't bothered to come to him when he was on his deathbed and now he was more than willing to rush to Sammy's side. But now wasn't the time to be selfish. He'd called hoping John would come. He needed John with Sam so he would be free to hunt down and kill Mrs. Hoffkins for murdering her daughter, performing dangerous magic, and putting his baby brother in critical condition.

"Jasper, Georgia," Dean answered biting off any other remarks.

"You stay there, Dean. Don't leave your brother's side. And don't run off and do anything stupid," he added as an afterthought. "That's an order."

"Yes sir." Dean answered obediently.

"Dean?"

"Yeah?"

"You're not hurt are you?" John asked, his voice holding some emotion.

"No," Dean answered with a small smile. "No, I'm alright."

"Good," John sounded a little relieved to hear that, "Just hang tight. I'll be there as soon as I can."

And then the line went dead. And once again Dean was sitting in lonely silence waiting for someone to bring him news of his brother.

John Winchester rubbed the sleep from his eyes as he hurriedly packed his things. He should've checked his caller ID before answering the phone, but of course he hadn't thought of it after being rudely awakened at 3 in the morning. It wasn't that he didn't care about his boys, he just didn't want them in any more danger than they had to be. But this was serious. Dean wouldn't have sounded so scared if it hadn't been serious.

Once again John found his thoughts wondering whether or not he was a good father. He wondered that a lot, especially lately. It had nagged at him ever since he had left Dean almost a year ago. But that wasn't important right now, what was important was getting to his boys as quickly as possible, and that's what he intended to do.

There were 11 chairs in the waiting room; there 174 ceiling tiles; there were 15 tiles from Dean's feet to the wall and there were 6 rows, so there were 90 tiles between Dean and the wall. There was a painting of a mellow landscape on the far wall that he had studied for a long time and a mirror in a gold frame in which Dean could see his own tired, worried eyes. There were still no doctors in sight. Just as the Winchester resolved to get up and yell for one, a stout man came into the room and made his way towards him.

"Sir?"

"Yes?" Dean asked, standing to meet the doctor. He must have looked intimidating to the much shorter man because he stopped a couple of feet away from him.

"We have news on your brother."

"It's about damn time," Dean almost snapped, but managed to keep his tone clipped.

The man seemed a little taken aback, but not much so.

"Your brother's resting comfortably now," the doctor continued, "He came through surgery successfully, and everything looks good, but he's still not out of the woods yet. He's lost a lot of blood."

Although the news was not as good as he hoped, it could have been a lot worse, and Dean felt some of the tension ease out of his strained muscles. He let out his breath, not realizing that he had been holding it.

"Perhaps you would like to go home and rest," the doctor suggested, "or maybe change your clothes."

Dean looked down at his blood stained shirt, but shook his head anyway

"I'd like to go see him, if that's okay." Beside, his dad had ordered him to stay put, and that's what he intended to do.

"Alright," the doctor replied with a nod, "but he's not conscious."

Dean nodded and followed the doctor to Sam's room. The man kindly left after he'd shown Dean the door and so the older brother entered alone. Though his heart wrenched at seeing his brother unconscious, he took comfort in the steady beeping coming from the heart monitor. Dean pulled a chair up next to Sam's bed and sat there for some time before he spoke.

"Sammy, I'm not sure if you can hear me or not…but, uh…I'm sorry. For a lot of things. For not speaking to you or coming to see you while you were at college. For coming to get you when Dad went missing. For being such a pain in the ass." He smiled softly. "It should be me lying there instead of you. I never asked you to take a bullet for me."

_Yeah, don't get emotional again_, he thought as he wiped a tear from his eye, _Sammy's never gonna leave you alone for breaking down that first time. He doesn't need to wake up to see me crying._

Dean had never felt more helpless, more alone, more like a child, than he did at that moment.

"Do you remember," he began aloud, since no one was there to hear him anyway, "that time when I was 11 and you were 7 and you cut yourself and thought you were going to bleed to death?" Dean laughed warmly at the memory. "You wouldn't stop crying. Dad wasn't there, so I got some water and sprinkled it over your cut, and said that it was actually a healing potion. And you stopped crying. And you asked me how I had made the potion. And I told you it was a secret and then you said something like 'The main ingredient must be a big brother's love,' or something like that. And I laughed at you and told you to stop being silly. But really, that's all it ever was, Sammy. God, do I wish that that was enough to heal you now." Dean wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. "I'm going to kill the one that did this to you," he said with sudden conviction. "I promise you, when Dad gets here to watch over you, I'm going to kill her."


	22. Chapter 21: Father vs Son

Chapter 21: Father vs. Son

2 days. 2 endless days it took for the father to reach the son. For 2 days Dean Winchester kept a constant vigil by his brother's bedside, and for 2 days John Winchester drove to get to him. It seemed the longest 2 days in both their existence, only it was made worse for Dean who was torn by thoughts of vengeance and loyalty.

Finally, after pacing Sam's room for 2 days, Dean laid down to rest on the couch in the hospital room. He was exhausted physically and emotionally. Resolving to rest only for a few hours, he fell into a deep sleep. And John Winchester found him thus when he entered the hospital room.

"Sammy," he murmured aloud as he stood by his younger son's bed side.

_How did this happen?_ He wondered, _What were they hunting?_

John heard the door open behind him and he turned. A nurse came in with a blanket and a pillow.

"Oh," she said in surprise, "I'm sorry."

"It's alright," John answered.

"I brought these for him." She indicated Dean with her head, laying the blanket and pillow down on the table and leaving quickly.

John walked over to the couch. Gently lifting Dean's head, he slid the pillow beneath him, then pulled the blanket up to his shoulders.

It's been years since I've tucked him in, John thought with a warm smile.

Then something on Dean's wrist caught his eye; a hospital bracelet.

He told me he wasn't hurt, John thought with a frown, fingering the bracelet. He also noted the bruises that covered Dean's arm and once again wondered what it was the boys had been hunting.

_He remembers being shot as he ran to save Dean. Emily had warned him of the danger. He also remembers his brother's tears, and that alone fills Sam with agony. He doesn't even remember seeing Dean that way. Except once, a long time ago on Mother's Day._

But what Sam doesn't remember is how he got here, wherever exactly 'here' is. All he remembers is the darkness and the fear, and the nothing. And now he is somewhere, only he's not sure where.

"Heaven or Hell?" _he asks himself._

"Neither."

_He turns at the sound of her voice._

"Jessica," _he says,_ "where are we?"

"You," _she answers,_ "are actually lying in a hospital bed in a coma. That, I'm sorry to say, is my doing."

"What do you mean?"

"I need your help again," _she tells him, _"but not on the physical plane. That is why I brought you here, leaving your body in a coma."

"What's wrong?" _he asks._

"My mother believes I told Dean that she was the one who murdered my sister. She had forbidden me to say her name to you two, ensuring that you were both kept ignorant of her past. But, like I said, she believes me to have told Dean, and so she has sealed my mind away from my body. I'm in a coma, like you. Only I have the power to send you back, and I am practically in limbo."

"How can I help?" _Sam asks._

"Come with me."

_Jessica holds out her hand and Sam reaches out and takes it. He is instantly surrounded by darkness again, but it soon melts away and he finds himself standing in the train station._

"We are like spirits," _Jessica tells Sam,_ "Separated from our physical bodies."

"But I don't understand," _Sam tells her,_ "what do you want me to do."

_Jessica walks forward and pushes open the door to the empty room with the painted walls._

"I want you," _she says turning to face him,_ "to summon my spirit back to my body."

"You want me to perform necromancy?" _Sam asks._

"No," _Jessica replies,_ "that only works on the dead. This is different. Since you're a psychic like me, you can summon my spirit."

"I don't know how," _Sam replies._

"I'll talk you through it," _Jessica insists, _"Look, Sam. We don't have any other options."

"Put me back in my body and I'll do it." _Sam suggests._

"I can't," _she replies,_ "I can't do anything for you until I'm in my body again. Besides, you've just been shot; you're not going anywhere. And Dean can't do this. It has to be you and it has to be now."

_Sam frowns. He sees no way around this, only he's still uncertain of what to do. He wants to get back to Dean, to tell him he's alright, but he knows that he has to help Jessica._

"Alright," _he says to her,_ "show me what to do."

He had been too tired to dream, but now that damn beeping was waking him up.

_That beaping's a good thing,_ he reminded himself as he opened his eyes, _it means Sammy's alive._

"You slept all day."

Dean jumped at the sound of the familiar voice.

"Dad?" he asked, looking up.

John Winchester sat close by. He now studied Dean with his piercing eyes.

"How long have I been out?" Dean asked, rubbing his eyes.

"A good 12 hours," John replied.

"And Sam?"

John sighed. "No change."

"When did you get here?"

"Early this morning." He paused, "It's good to see you again, Dean."

"Yeah, I'm just sorry it wasn't under better circumstances," Dean replied, sitting up with a groan.

"What were you hunting?" John asked.

"A trigger happy bitch with a god-complex," Dean answered as he swung his legs over the side of the couch, running his hand through his hair.

There was an uncomfortable moment of silence between them before John asked, "How'd this happen?"

"It's a long story," Dean answered immediately.

"I have time."

"Well, I don't," Dean replied, standing and walking towards the door.

"Where are you going?" John asked, grabbing his arm. "You're just going to leave him here to hunt the thing that did this?"

Dean's eyes widened in surprise, then narrowed with anger. "That's hypocritical of you," he sneered, "accusing me of running out."

John felt the sting of the comment, but only stared evenly back at Dean.

"Let go," his elder son demanded.

"I want to talk to you," John insisted.

"What's there to say?!" Dean snapped angrily. "I know I screwed up!"

"Dean…" John's voice was sad, tired, "This isn't your fault. What I said over the phone…I didn't mean-"

"But it is my fault," Dean whispered, and John could see the tears standing out in his eyes, "It's always been my job to protect him. And now he's in a fucking coma because I was too damn blind to see what was happening until it was too late!"

"Dean, sit down," John insisted softly, noting that his son didn't resist as he led him back to the couch.

"How come," Dean asked quietly, "you come to him, but you never came to me when I was dying?"

Despite the question, John didn't see any anger in Dean's eyes, or hurt. There was just the desire to know.

"Dean, I don't love Sam anymore than I do you." John told him.

"That's not what I asked."

John took in a breath and let it out slowly. "Try to see it from my point of view, Dean. We both know that the demon come for Sam. It was after Sam. So I feel a natural desire to protect him more, since I know he is in danger. That doesn't mean I love him more. The same's true for you, Dean. If given the choice, you would choose him over me."

Dean looked disgusted to what his father had just said. "That's not true," he whispered, "I would never be able to choose between the both of you."

"Dean-"

John stopped as his son stood again.

"Where are you going?" John asked.

"Back to the hotel," Dean snapped, "I have to get cleaned up."

John couldn't help but note the clipped tone Dean spoke in.

_Let him go,_ he told himself with some effort. _You'll only push him farther away; he needs to be alone right now._


	23. Chapter 22: Miles to Go Before I Sleep

Chapter 22: Miles to Go Before I Sleep

The hotel seemed infinitely empty as Dean entered. He stood in the doorway for sometime, pondering that emptiness, before realizing it was the lack of Sam that made it feel so. Dean's long suppressed loneliness rose to the surface in a sudden rush. A new wave of tears threatened him as he closed the hotel room door behind him.  
He did not turn on the lights. The dark was somehow comforting to him. Stumbling over to the closest bed, Sam's bed by chance, he sat down on the edge and put his head in his hands.  
How had he failed so miserably? How had everything fallen apart so quickly? He had failed Sam, Jessica their father…

_I can't do this to myself, _he thought, _the more I beat myself up, the more I'll want to give up, and I can't do that. I still have a long way to go before I can quit._

John Winchester snapped his phone shut irritably. Still no answer. Dean must have turned his phone off, which meant that he was really angry.

_I shouldn't have kept pushing him like that,_ he scolded himself, _I knew better. He was already upset and I only made it worse._

"Excuse me, Sir?"

John looked up quickly at the voice of the intruder. A doctor stood close by, a medical chart in hand.

"Yes?" John asked, "Any news?"

"Your son is going to be fine," the doctor answered with a smile, "His wounds are not fatal."

"Then why is he still in a coma?" John asked, glancing towards his inert son.

The doctor hesitated. "We don't know."

"What do you mean 'We don't know'?"

The doctor shook his head. "I'm sorry, sir. We're doing everything we can."

"Thank-you," John answered softly. "Wait," he called as the doctor went to leave.

"Yes?" he asked.

"The other young man who was here," John said, standing, "He had a hospital bracelet. What was he admitted for?"

The doctor thought for a moment before remembering Dean, "Oh, yes. He had drowned. Had to be resuscitated. Then his brother was attacked. Feel bad for him."

"Drowned?" John asked, even more confused, "How?"

"We got a 911 call. He'd fallen into a well up at Free Hope Church."

"Really?" John asked, "Thank-you."

The doctor nodded and then left.

_He told me he hadn't been hurt, _John thought, _walking to the window and looking out into the night, but I don't understand how it happened. I __need__ to know what's going on. _A sudden thought caused a current of fear to run through him. _What if the reason Dean's not answering is because he's in trouble? I need to go look for him…but I won't even know where to begin. And I can't leave Sammy._

John closed his eyes to think, torn between both his sons. In the end, he weighed the risks and gains. Sam was hurt, yes, but decidedly safe here in the hospital. And Dean was God knows-where, angry and maybe in danger.

John was lucky to find a hotel key in Sam's jeans, which were with his other belongings in a small cabinet in the room. Now, at least he knew where to start.

_He smells smoke, but can't tell where it's coming from. It's dark, but he sees a glow in the distance. He looks closer and sees that it is the glow of fire, but instead of running away from it, he runs toward it._

"Sam!" he calls, dread filling him, although he doesn't know why.

"Dean!"

He turns. Is that his father calling out to him?

"Dean!"

Dean knows that his father is in danger, but his brother needs his help, too. What is he supposed to do? Who is he supposed to save?

"Dean!"

Dean realized with a start that he was being shaken awake by rough hands. It took him a minute to realize where he was and who was in the room with him.

"Dammit, Dad, I'm awake!" he snapped, pulling himself up on his elbows.

"What are doing sleeping?" John asked.

"I've barely slept in 3 days! Cut me some slack," Dean retorted.

"I'm sorry," John replied, "I was worried. You weren't answering your phone and I thought that maybe something had-"

"Where's Sam?" Dean interrupted, sitting up straight.

"At the hospital," John answered, "I figured he'd be safe."

"You left him there alone?" Dean asked, jumping up. "He's not safe there!"

John's face paled. "How so? Is something after him? Dean, you have got to tell me what's going on."

"On the way there," he replied, pulling on a clean t-shirt and snatching his car keys.

Sam felt his soul being reconnected with his body. It knocked the breath from him and he gasped, eyes flying open. He looked around. He was in an empty hospital room. Jessica's last words to him echoed in his head.

_You're in danger again, Sam. I'm going to send you back to your body. You have to get out of the hospital, though. My mother's coming for you._

Where was Dean though? Sam had expected him to he there when he woke up. The hurt Sam felt was quickly replaced by fear. The things Dean had said to him before he lost consciousness…what if he had gone and done something stupid? What if he had gone after Mrs. Hoffkins by himself?

"Don't worry," a voice spoke up from the doorway, "I don't have a clue where your brother is."

"You," Sam breathed, sitting up as he recognized the voice, realizing that she had been reading his thoughts.

"Me," Mrs. Hoffkins replied, leveling a gun at Sam's chest," now be a good boy and don't make me shoot you again."

"So, who's after Sam?" John asked, clutching his seat as they sped down the highway, "Why was he shot? How did you drown?"

"Okay, here's the abridged version," Dean began, "We were called here by a girl who we thought was dead."

"Thought?" John asked.

"She had a twin sister. One girl was killed about 5 years back. The other was a clairvoyant calling for out help."

"A telepath?"

"Do you have to repeat everything I say?" Dean snapped. John glared at him, but he continued. "Anyway, the living sister asked us to pull the dead one's soul from a gateway, a well."

"I understand," John picked up, "You jumped in and something tried to pull you in."

"Yeah," Dean answered, "but I was still able to pull Emily's soul out. Anyway, come to find out, their mom was psychic, too, and she was the one who killed her daughter."

"Why?"

"The spirits in the gateway," Dean explained, "They call out to…to people like Emily and Sam, to psychics. They were calling out to the mom, trying to escape. In a fit of insanity she threw her daughter in to appease them. Now, the spirits only need one more powerful, psychic soul to break out of the gateway."

The truth of what his son was saying dawned on John Winchester and he felt his breath catch.

"Sam. She wants to sacrifice Sam."

"Yes," Dean replied, "and you left him alone. Why the hell did you think I called you?! It was to protect him."

"Why? So you could run off and get yourself killed trying to be a hero?!" John retorted forcefully, "Would that really make things better, Dean?"

"It might have," Dean muttered.

"What I don't get," John continued, ignoring Dean's comment, "Is why she shot Sam if she needs him."

"It was me she was after," Dean whispered after a pause, "I knew what she was and so I was a threat…Sam took the bullet for me."

John suddenly realized why Dean felt so guilty about Sam's condition. He shook his head.

"This isn't your fault, son."

"I'm supposed to protect him."

"You've spent a lifetime protecting him," John replied softly, "One mistake does not condemn you for all of that. It does not make you weak. It only makes you human."

Dean nodded slowly. "Thanks, Dad."

"What did you see when you drowned?" John asked after a few minutes of silence.

"Why do you ask?" Dean inquired.

"I'm just wondering," his father replied.

"Nothing," Dean answered, "I saw nothing. Sorry to disappoint you."

John hurried to his son's room, Dean following closely behind.

_Please, God,_ he thought, _I don't ask you for much. Just don't let me have screwed up. Don't let Sam be hurt. Let him be there, safe in his room. Please, I can't bear to fail my sons again._

John skidded to a halt on the tile floors as he came upon his son's room. It was completely empty, Sam was gone.


	24. Chapter 23: Once More Into the Fire

Chapter 23: Once More Into the Fire

Clara Hoffkins only prayed that this plan would work. If not, then...

_Then Jessica must be sacrificed too,_ a voice whispered in her head.

"When Dean finds you, he's going to kill you. You know that, right?" Sam asked from the passenger seat. His hands were tied in front of him and he kept eyeing the gun lying in the woman's lap, but he wasn't going to make a move that would get him killed.

"I realize that your brother is the equivalent of a mad dog," Clara replied, "but he's part of my plan as well."

"What?" Sam asked.

"Look, kid," she answered, "I'm not about to give my whole plan away. Just sit tight. It will all fall into place."

"So I'm the bait," Sam concluded.

"Something like that," Clara replied.

As they drove, now in silence, Sam began to recognize the way to Free Hope Church. Silently, he began to wonder where Dean was and if he was alright. Sam had been trying for some time to get a hold of Jessica to see if her spirit had made it back to her body, but so far, there was no connection. This worried Sam, too, because if he could get a hold of Jessica, then he could send a message to his brother.

_He's gone._

Those were the only words John Winchester's mind could register. Empty bed, empty room...

_Gone... because I wasn't here..._

"Come on," he heard Dean say from behind him, "If we hurry, we can still get there in time."

John turned. The fiery look in his elder son's eyes was alarming, but comforting in a way. It gave him strength. He couldn't show weakness. Not now. Not when his children needed him.

"Where are we going?" John asked from the passenger seat of the Impala.

"The well," Dean answered, "The gateway."

_Of course,_ John thought, _She wants to use Sam's soul to break open the gateway and release the spirits inside._

Dean pulled the Impala into the parking lot of Free Hope Church. It had begun to rain softly. The two men got out of the car silently.

"Be ready for anything," Dean warned, "Sometimes the spirits will try to pull you in."

"Son, please," John replied, "Don't patronize me. I'm always on my guard. Now come on. Let's go save your brother."

"Yes, Sir," Dean answered softly.

Dean led the way down the trail to the well, quickly but cautiously, gun held firmly in his hand. Because of the rain clouds there was no moon and the dark night made it difficult to see.

Dean felt guilty for talking to his father like he had. He had been upset and angry at himself and had taken it out on his dad. After this was over, he would need to apologize.

The well was just up ahead. Even though he couldn't see it clearly, he could sense it. Slowly, the two men came into the clearing; the only sound was the soft patter of rain in the trees.

"I knew you would come, Dean, but I didn't know that you were bringing a friend."

The two Winchesters spun in unison to face the woman who was speaking. John saw that she was probably middle-aged. The clouds above parted just long enough to allow the moonlight to give him a good long look at her.

"Thought you knew everything," Dean said to her.

"Okay, so I lied," she replied with a smile, "I did know."

"Where's Sam?"

"Around."

"Enough with the cryptic bullshit," Dean snapped, levelling his gun at Mrs. Hoffkins, "Tell me where he is."

"What if I told you he was dead?"

"I'd say you were lying."

"How do you know?" Clara asked.

"Because I'd sense it," Dean answered confidently.

"You're not psychic."

"They're brothers," John interjected as if those words could explain any of life's mysteries, "They don't need to be psychic to sense each other. They have a stronger bond than that: blood."

Clara smirked. "Whatever that means. There is no bond in blood."

"Maybe for the cold-hearted," John replied, "but when it comes to family that care about and love each other, look out for each other, that bond is unbreakable, whether it be between siblings or parent and children. The fact that you killed your own daughter is a sacrilege against that bond."

"Shut-up!" Mrs. Hoffkins snapped, "You have no idea what I went through!"

"Save me the sappy story," John said, stepping forward," and tell me where my son is. Now!!"

Dean shivered. Was it just him or was the air getting colder? He looked around nervously. Something wasn't right. She wouldn't keep them talking this long... unless she was stalling for some reason.

"Dad!" Dean shouted in warning, but he had realized the truth too late.

The younger Winchester's gun flew from his fingers by an unseen force and he was thrown to the ground. John immediately spun to defend Dean, but there was nothing there. In the moment he hesitated he, too, was thrown off his feet. He watched in dismay as his gun flew into the well nearby. A faint splash echoed up from his depths.

"Dammit," he hissed, jumping up to his feet quickly.

His eyes scanned the trees, but nothing was there. He hurried to Dean's side.

"What is it?" he asked, pulling the younger man to his feet.

"A spirit," he replied, "Must be a guardian of some sort. Where's Hoffkins?"

"Over here."

The two men turned. Clara stood close to the well, Dean's gun in her hands. Sam was kneeling in front of her, hands bound behind his back but looking unharmed.

"Sammy," John breathed.

"Let him go," Dean hissed.

Sam was surprised to see their father, but at the same time he wasn't. Of course Dean had called him... but he had actually come? After all the time John Winchester had spent running away from them, he had actually come for once when they needed him? But now what were they going to do?

"Take another step," Clara warned, "and I'll put another bullet in him. This time through his head."

"You hurt him," Dean replied, "and no force in Heaven or Hell will protect you from me."

"Fine," she replied, lifting the gun and aiming at John, "What about him? You have a lot of anger toward this man. It's boiling off of you."

"Don't pretend to know me, even if you can read my mind," Dean answered.

John leapt aside as Clara pulled the trigger, the bullet narrowly missing him. Dean took advantage of the distraction and leapt at the woman. Sam saw her take aim at his brother and elbowed her in the stomach. She doubled over in pain and dropped the gun to the ground. Dean was able to kick the gun to the side as he threw himself on the woman.

"Sammy!" John hurried to his younger son's side, hurriedly untying his hands. "Are you alright?"

"What the hell are you doing here?" Sam asked, wincing slightly as he stood; whatever painkillers he had been on in the hospital were beginning to wear off.

"Your brother called me."

"And you came?" Sam all but snapped. He immediately felt badly for the bitter words, but knew that he had sincerely meant them and could not take them back even if he had wanted to.

"Are you alright?" John repeated, his voice taking on a slightly harsher tone as he helped Sam to his feet.

"Yeah. I'm fine," Sam replied, his voice softening.

"Good. Now let's help your brother."

"Dad?" Sam stopped the older man despite the arguments they had had in the past. "I'm glad you came."

Dean was surprised by the woman's strength, although she was still no match for the much taller and stout young man. The only thing that he was worried about was the spirits around the well that seemed to come to Clara's aid.

"Let GO of me!" the woman screeched.

Dean felt his anger boiling up inside him again, so much so that he would have strangled the woman right there and not felt guilty for it. Luckily for her, but not Dean, she managed to pull her own gun from her jacket before he could wrap his fingers around her throat. Dean threw the woman off and she fell in front of the well. John dived for Dean's dropped gun, which was at Clara's feet, but she got to it first. Dean leapt forward to attack her, but halted when she cried,

"Stop! I'll kill one of them!"

Dean stopped and looked. One gun was aimed at his father and the other at Sam. His eyes darted between the two before settling back on Clara.

"Anyone makes a move," she warned, "and somebody gets a bullet. Simple as that. Now, here's the deal, Dean. Time to make a choice."

"A choice?" Dean asked.

"Yes. This well needs one more strong soul. Will it be your father or your brother?"

"What?" Dean breathed, a trickle of fear running through him and becoming a flood.

"I thought you needed _my_ soul," Sam said, "A psychic soul?"

"Oh, but this is so much more fun," Clara said, turning to the youngest Winchester, "Wouldn't you agree?"

"You're twisted," John said menacingly, "Don't you regret anything that you've done?"

_If I attacked now, could I disarm her?_ John thought, _No. I can't risk it. Sammy could get hurt. Dean will have to figure this one out._

"Time's running out, Dean!" Mrs. Hoffkins snapped, "Pick one or they both die!"


	25. Chapter 24: Dean's Choice

Chapter 24: Dean's Choice

Life's too short to hesitate. Someone told me that once. I can't remember who, though. My life seems like one big blur to me now. Sometimes life stops for a few brief moments. Don't look for that pause. It's never anything good. It means that everything is coming to a close, building up to the climax. It's the calm before the storm.

"Choose!" Clara demanded, "Father or brother? Who dies?"

Dean had never felt so helpless in his entire life. Not even when Sammy had been bleeding in his arms had he been this scared. Now it wasn't just his brother who was in danger, it was his father, too.

Choose? How the hell was he expected to choose? This couldn't be right. Couldn't be fair… He just couldn't do it. No one should ever ask this choice of anyone.

Dean recalled his father's words to him in the hospital. He had said something about how, given the choice, Dean would choose Sam over John. John had said that he would choose Sam over Dean.

But that wasn't true. Dean couldn't pick. He was in agony right now just thinking about what he had to do.

"Dean?" Clara's voice broke into his thoughts, "Dean, time's running out. Tick, tock, tick, tock. I'll kill them both if you don't choose."

"No, wait!" Dean cried, "Just give me a minute, dammit."

Dean ran a hand through his hair, trying to think. He was too torn. He couldn't do this. And because of his indecision, he was failing them both. But than an idea came to him and he knew what he had to do.

He looked at the situation again. Clara by the well, both guns pointed at Sam and his dad. The well. No matter what, someone was going in that well. Dean knew that was inevitable. He also knew that the decision was his to make. The keys to Life and Death were in his hands.

_This may or may not work,_ he thought, _but I have to do it. It's risky, but I can't see another way around it. I wish that this choice hadn't have been mine to make, that it had been yours, Dad, because you know what you want. You always have. You never would have had to hesitate._

John Winchester could see the struggle on his elder son's face and knew the pain he was in. He would have done anything in the world to be able to take that pain from his first born and bare it on his own shoulders. But this was Dean's test.  
Even though he knew that, he still couldn't help but thinking:

_Lord, why did it have to be Dean? I know that he can't do this; he lets his feelings get in the way of his judgment too often. He tries so hard to seem strong, but those are just walls that he's put up. His weakness is that he tries to save everybody and he can't._

But then John saw a strange calm steal into his older son's hazel eyes. It was a strength, a fire, that John hadn't seen before. Sam noticed it, too. He also noticed a new resolution on Dean's face. This was not a man haunted by indecision or even tormented by his choice. This was a man determined to succeed and to do what was right. It never ceased to amaze Sam how Dean carried his sense of justice hidden, but at certain times it became a blaze. It was a conflagration in his manner, his body, his eyes. And right now it was radiating from him like a fierce flame.

"Time's up," Clara declared.

"No," Dean said, "I've decided."

"Well, then?" she asked, "Who dies?"

A sardonic smile crept across Dean's face.

"You."

Before Clara could react to Dean's statement, he had rushed forward towards her. It was a gamble, he knew. She could easily fire both guns at Sam and John, but he was hoping he could surprise her before she could squeeze off any shots.

Sam and John both saw in an instant what the plan was and leapt out of range of the two pistols just as they were fired. Sam heard the tree behind him explode as the bullet hit, sending wood chips into the air.

John hissed in pain as the bullet grazed his arm and he stumbled backward, trying to keep his balance.

"Dad!" Sam cried.

The well was directly behind the woman. All Dean had to do was catch her off guard and give her a good push and she would tumble straight in. Dean had heard Sam's cry and instantly wondered if he had risked too much. But he couldn't think of that now. It was too late to change the course of things.

John held his bleeding arm, steadying himself. In one horrifying moment John saw that there was one factor that Dean had not taken into account… or had he?

The gun went off once, then again as Dean staggered into the woman.

"Dean!" Sam shouted, running forward.

Dean and Clara fell against the wall of the well. Clara laughed bitterly as they struggled for control of the gun.

"You fool!" she hissed, "You can't get the best of me! I can read your thoughts, remember?"

"Oh, yeah?" Dean asked, "Then tell me what I'm going to do next."

"Die!"

"Sorry, sweetheart," Dean gasped, "but I'm taking you to Hell with me."

Clara used all her strength to push Dean over the edge of the well. Desperately, he grabbed at her arm to keep from falling over. As a result of the struggle, they both lost their balance and together tumbled into the well.

"No!" Sam screamed miserably, trying to catch something so he could pull Dean back up, but it was too late.

John ran forward, stopping by Sam's side. With frantic eyes he looked down into the well, but could see nothing in the darkness.

"Dean! Dean!!"

The rain began to fall harder around them.

Dean and Clara hit the water hard as they fell together through the well shaft. Dean's breath was driven from his body as he met with the icy innards of the gateway. There was a moment of confusion as he struggled underwater to regain the surface, but he only seemed to spiral deeper and deeper. His lungs burned for air when there was none to be found and his limbs tried to find firm leverage in the spinning darkness, but there was nothing to grasp. He could feel the waters in the well churning around him and the coldness was like daggers in his body.

His first concern was untangling himself from Clara before she did him any more damage. He didn't know how badly he was hurt, but he had felt at least one of her bullets hit him when he had rushed her.

There was no light and the darkness seemed to permeate even his thoughts and hopes at the moment. The spirits. They would drag him down if he couldn't get out. Or would they take him regardless? He had already braved the depths of the well once and proven himself by pulling Emily's soul free. But would he be so lucky the second time? He had taken the risk in order to save his family and he was willing to face the consequences, but he would do whatever it took to avoid the watery death that the gateway offered.

He swam as hard as he could, but despite his efforts, he knew that he was getting no closer to the surface. On the contrary, it felt to him as if he was falling deeper and deeper. He opened his eyes and, even through the darkness, he saw a small light in front of him.

The light seemed to radiate a peace that beckoned to Dean. For a moment he thought of letting go and letting that peace overwhelm him, but a sudden voice in his head jolted him back.

_DEAN!_

_That voice,_ he thought, _so familiar. Jessica…?_

The well around him began to fill with ghostly forms. Dean knew that they were the spirits trapped in the gateway. Fear shot through him. They had come for him. He was a powerful soul and, like last time, they would try to use him to blast open the portal.. He began to struggle again, but noticed something else. The spirits did not come to him menacingly. Instead, they gathered around another point in the well. 

Dean watched in horror as the spirits latched onto the still struggling form of Mrs. Hoffkins. Her mouth opened in a soundless scream as dead fingers dug into her flesh and held her so that she could not swim free.

Then that light seemed to surround him again, and he was liberated from the image of the dying woman. 

_Dean._

Jessica. You're alright. Thank God.

Always the hero, Dean. Never a thought to your own safety.

Sammy. And my father. Are they alright?

They need their hero. You have to go back to them. I'll help you get there…


	26. Chapter 25: A Family Reunited

Chapter 25: A Family Reunited

John Winchester was already pulling off his jacket, preparing to leap into the well after his eldest son, ignoring the pain in his wounded arm.

"Go get some rope from the trunk," he commanded Sam.

_I'm going to kick Dean's ass,_ he thought angrily as Sam ran to the Impala, _I can't believe him! The stupid boy. Always trying to be the hero._

"Here!" Sam cried, out of breath from his sprint to the car, as he handed his father the rope.

"Lower me down," John instructed, tying the rope around himself, "Then pull us both up."

"Dad."

"What?"

"Wouldn't it make more sense if I went down?" Sam asked, "I'm lighter than you."

John hesitated. Sam, as always, had a good point. But John didn't want to put the younger Winchester into any unnecessary danger, not after he had been shot. But Dean was the focus right now. Dean was in immediate danger.

"Alright, son, but my arm," John answered, "I may not be able to pull the both of you up."

"Pull us up one at a time," Sam replied.

John nodded reluctantly. "Alright."

Suddenly, the ground beneath them gave a lurch and they both stumbled. John caught Sam's arm to keep him from falling over and they both struggled to keep their footing.

"What the hell?" John asked as the ground jolted again.

"The gateway," Sam breathed, "It's opening, I think. We have to hurry!"

The well began to fill with all sorts of lights and sounds. Dean could feel the water churning around him as he struggled to get to the top, his lungs burning for air and every nerve in his body fighting to live.

_Jessica, what's happening?_

_Mrs. Hoffkins. Her psychic soul is tearing the gateway open and releasing all the souls inside._

Despite Dean's efforts, the souls that cramped the well shaft prevented him from getting to the surface and getting air. Fear once again filled him. Was he really going to die this way? It didn't seem fair at all. In one moment he saw every terrible moment in his life that he had survived: his mother's death, being raised the way he was, Sam leaving him to go to college… He had survived so much, why couldn't he save himself this time?

"Be careful, Sammy," John said as he tightened the rope around Sam's waist.

"I will," he replied, "You don't have to-"

Sam was cut off by a sharp pain bursting through his skull that brought him to his knees. He cried out, holding his head.

"Sammy!" John cried.

A hundred images flooded into Sam's head at once, images of people dying and smiling and crying. So many voices seemed to be calling out to him at once and he could feel the ground trembling beneath his fingertips. So many voices, so many souls… But there was one voice in particular that seemed to be calling out above the rest, a voice that, despite its desperation, gave him the strength he needed to get to his feet, just like it always had before.

_Dean. I need to save Dean. He needs me._

The world was becoming black around him. He couldn't believe that he was drowning again. No air, no escape… After all he'd been through, Dean Winchester was going to drown in a well. The last thing he could remember was a hand in the darkness, a firm hand grabbing his wrist and pulling him up…

Sam broke the surface of the water with Dean in his arms. His brother didn't seem to be conscious, which frightened the younger Winchester, but he had to focus on getting them out. There was so much chaos around them; Sam could hear and feel all the souls that were bursting from the well. Fingers trembling, he tied the rope around Dean so that their father could pull him out, praying that he had not been too late.

The rain seemed to beat down harder than ever as John Winchester struggled to save his eldest son. He could feel blood pouring from his wound and his arm felt like it was on fire as he pulled Dean up, but he was too determined to let it hinder him.

_So [Imany times I wasn't there for him, _he thought as thunder roared behind him, So many times I let him down. I won't fail you again, Dean. Never again. You need to know that you are just as important to me as Sammy.[/I

John rushed forward to pull Dean's limp body over the wall of the well, gently laying him on the ground. Now he had to get Sammy out of the well, too.

Sam was relieved once he had finally climbed out of the well, but the sight of his older brother lying motionless on the ground nearby sent fear into him like a knife. The rain had begun to slow and now fell softly. Sam and John both fell by Dean's side.

"Come on, son" John urged, laying a hand on Dean's chest to check if he was breathing.

The moment he touched him, Dean gasped and began to choke up water. John let out a heavy sigh of relief as his son's eyes fluttered open.

"Thank God," he croaked, tears threatening him.

Sam was shocked to see the emotion in his father's face, but then again, he was almost crying, too. The younger Winchester smiled in relief to see Dean alive and okay.

"Dammit, Dean," he said, "You scared the hell out of us."

Dean blinked to try to focus his sight. He felt numb and very disoriented, but happy to be alive nonetheless. He looked up into the faces of his family.

"Dad," he whispered, "You're bleeding."

"So are you, dumbass," Sam said with a relieved laugh. The bullet that had hit Dean, he noticed, had only appeared to have grazed the older Winchester's ribs, leaving a nasty-looking but not deadly wound.

John pulled Dean into his arms, wanting nothing more at the moment than to hold his son and thank whatever higher powers there may be that he was alive.  
"I'm alright. Hey, I'm fine," Dean protested, though he made no move to free himself.

John ignored the comment and instead pulled Sammy into his arms as well.

"I am so proud of the two of you," he said, "and if you ever scare me that badly again, neither one of you will be able to sit for a month."

"Yeah, we love you, too, Dad," Sam replied with a laugh. 


	27. Epilogue

Epilogue

"What's the matter?" Sam asked Dean.

The elder Winchester had done nothing but brood silently for the last day or so. Sam had assumed that it was their father's hasty good-bye after he had known that his son's would be okay, but now he felt that it might be something else. Dean had paused over his half-packed bag and stared off into space.

"Well?" Sam asked.

"This isn't over," Dean muttered.

"Excuse me?"

"It's not over," Dean answered as he faced his younger brother. It just didn't feel right leaving this way. "I'm sorry, Sammy, but there's something I gotta do."

---------------------------------------------------------  
"Jessica Hoffkins?"

The young woman turned in her chair. Her small asylum room had only seemed smaller over the past day or so. She had seen the world through Sam and Dean's eyes and now she wanted nothing more than freedom. But now with her mother and dead and her father missing, she had no hope of leaving. She found solace in one fact: her sister's soul was free, all thanks to Dean.

"Yes?" she asked the nurse who came into her room.

She had begun speaking more and more to the strangers around her, ever since the spirits had begun to slowly leave. They were still there, only since the gateway had been destroyed, they were no longer concentrated in one area and so left her at peace a good deal of the time.

The nurse smiled warmly at her. "Gather your things. You're free to go."

"W-What?" she stammered, rising from her chair.

"Your cousin. He came and signed you out."

"My cousin?"

Jessica followed the nurse, her heart racing. What obscure member of her family had decided to take an interest in her? It wasn't until she stepped outside, into the sunshine, that she understood.

Dean Winchester stood grinning next to his old car, Sam on the other side. Jessica smiled, then broke into a run.

"Dean!" she cried, flying into his arms.

"Oh, Jess!" he said with a laugh, catching her in a strong hug.

"Cousins, huh?" she asked with a knowing smile.

"It's the best he can do," Sam answered, coming up and also hugging the young woman. "Thank you. For everything."

"No, thank you," she answered, "You got me out."

"You saved our lives," Dean replied, "This was the least we could do."

"Where's your dad?" Jessica asked.

Sam frowned and Dean cleared his throat before answering.

"He had somewhere to be."

"Oh," she replied, sensing that the brothers did not want to talk about it, so she changed the subject. "Am I coming with you guys? On the road? Hunting?"

"Well, actually…" Dean began, "Our job's dangerous, and-"

"But I have nowhere else to go," Jessica interrupted softly.

"We have somewhere for you to stay," Sam answered, "A good friend who's agreed to let you stay with her. She can also help you with your abilities, train you to use them."

"So, you can come along as far as Kansas," Dean finished, "if that's alright with you."

"Will I ever see you again?" Jessica asked.

"Of course. We'll check in."

"So, who is this person?"

"Her name's Missouri," Sam answered, opening the car door for the girl, "What do you say?"

"Alright," she answered, "on one condition."

"What's that?" Sam asked.

"I get shotgun!"

Dean laughed as she leapt in the front seat before Sam could stop her. When his younger brother gave him a pleading look, Dean replied:

"Sorry, Sammy. She called it."

"Screw you," Sam answered with a laugh.

"Everybody wants to!"

So, maybe the future really can't be told. Or maybe it really is always in motion. I don't know. One thing's for damn sure, though. Endings are so much easier than beginnings.

End.


End file.
